For the Sake of Time
by saxwarrior
Summary: After Chinatown, the Time Team has an opportunity to save Rufus with the help of a communist thoracic surgeon. Rittenhouse is being rebranded by Emma and Jessica to shape their version of tyranny- an America where the strong, the elite, and the privileged prey on the weak- and Jessica's got a baby on the way. Pirates. Mobsters. A wedding. The dangers never cease.
1. Prognosis Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 1

Wyatt's racing footsteps echoed on the bunker's metal walls. He reached into his back pocket to grab his last clip. He raced through the entrance to the control center and slammed and barred the door.

"They've breached the outer door," he announced. There were so few of them left now. When the war began, they'd recruited nearly a hundred people to help fight Rittenhouse's army. Now there were less than ten.

A middle-aged African American lady wearing a string of pearls and dress from 1974 collapsed into her seat and started weeping quietly.

All eyes turned toward the tall young man in the middle. "Now Mrs. Johnson, don't let them see you like that."

Katherine nodded and wiped her eyes. "Yes, sir," she choked.

President Kennedy drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. No one in the room had ever seen him look more defeated.

"We've lost good people," he said slowly. "Bass Reaves… Denise Christopher… Garcia Flynn… You've all given me all you got and then some. I never could've asked for more.

"There's no way out of this. The timeline's been blown to hell. Our last move- our ace in the hole- lies with you Jiya."

Everyone in the room blinked and turned to look at the center console. Katherine and Hedy both turned to the young Lebanese girl between them. Even she looked shocked. "Operation Prognosis?"

The president nodded. "If all goes well, our timeline will cease to exist. This is the last play we can do. Jiya. Good luck."

Jiya nodded. "Wyatt, Lucy. We have one last trip."

"Good luck," said the president.

They said their goodbye. Soft murmurs carried far in the vast control center. Jiya hugged a sobbing Connor Mason. Wyatt shook General McArthur's hand. Lucy stood back, watching the emotional scene.

There was a sudden hammering on the barred door. "They're here," said Wyatt. "We gotta go. We gotta go! Come on!"

He led the way up the steps into the machine, Lucy and Jiya hot on her heels.

"What's Operation Prognosis?" he said.

"We're going back to June 22, 2018," said Lucy. "Jiya pitched this after the Hermione Modification."

"We can be in two places at once now," said Jiya. "So we're going back to the day I came back from 1888."

"The day Rufus died?" asked Wyatt.

"We're gonna go back and help ourselves save Rufus."

As the machine roared to life, Wyatt started wondering. "Can't we just tell them about the Mason Data Dump? That would prevent the war."

"The Data Dump only happened because I met Tesla," said Jiya. "I only met Tesla because we had the Hermione Modification. We only made the Hermione modification because Rufus died. We save Rufus, we stop the war."

"But what about everything up to you meeting Tesla?" asked Wyatt. The machine was shaking now. The muffled sound of gunfire was coming from the outside. Kennedy's army was being slaughtered. "Miami, the pirates, the Titanic…"

"Our past selves will still have to take those missions," said Lucy, bracing herself for the jump. "But Wyatt, you can NOT tell them what's coming. Promise me."

"Hang on tight," said Jiya.

"Promise me!"

Wyatt blinked. "Lucy, I-"

And they jumped.

 _Five years earlier_

Wyatt's jaw dropped as he saw himself step out of the machine. He looked older, more weathered and he had a beard.

The older Lucy looked _hot._ Like Sarah Connor and the girl from Tomb Raider had a baby.

"Well," she said. "Do you guys wanna save Rufus or what?"


	2. Prognosis Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 2

Once they'd returned to 2018, Emma had barricaded herself in her quarters, leaving Jessica in the hands of the Rittenhouse agents.

"What happened?"

"Where's Nicholas?"

"Did you leave them back there?"

Eventually, Jessica made it into Carol's office and found the PA system. "May I have your attention," she said. "This is Jessica Logan. Please remain calm. Nothing has changed. There will be a debriefing of the mission, as always. All your questions will be answered."

The announcement did little to quiet the agents and all throughout the base, rumors were spreading. When Emma had been in her room over an hour, Jessica finally decided to text her.

When she didn't reply, Jessica took Carol's master keycard went to Emma's quarters herself. The door opened and Jessica found Emma hunched over a tablet, typing furiously.

"Do you have any idea what's going on out there?"

Emma shrugged. "Panic," she suggested. "If there's anything Rittenhouse has taught me, that's children's reaction to suddenly not having an authority figure around them. And that's this organization's problem. They're a bunch of children playing at being adults."

Jessica didn't have anything to say to that. Since Rittenhouse had saved Kevin, she'd been completely indebted to them. She and her family had wanted for nothing. In the day, she attended school and in the afternoon, Rittenhouse tutored her not only with her schoolwork but in espionage. She learned coding, languages, history… anything to help her better Rittenhouse's cause. Then in high school when Wyatt Logan asked her out, Rittenhouse sent her an encoded email. _Make him fall in love with you_.

That wasn't that hard- Jessica had learned early on how to manipulate people. What she hadn't expected was how much she would start to feel for Wyatt. Then when she found a credit card statement for a payment plan on a diamond ring from Zales, she went to Rittenhouse. They replied with another coded email. _Say yes._

Jessica enjoyed many happy but quiet years of marriage, continuing her training with Rittenhouse. But then a few months ago, Rittenhouse called her into the base and told her something incredible. She met Carol Preston- the Rittenhouse President. Carol Preston sat Jessica down and told her why Rittenhouse had bred her. She was to be the perfect spy- the greatest weapon in the war for a better world. The Wyatt she knew was gone forever. Wyatt was on a timetraveling mission to the past- 1941. The Wyatt who would return would have no memory of her from the past six years because in HIS reality, Jessica was dead. She was to text him and act as if they'd been having marital problems, threatening to walk out. Do and say anything to make Wyatt want to keep you around. Then she gave her a burner phone.

"This is the last time we'll see you for a while, I expect," Carol Preston had said. "Make regular reports- everything Wyatt tells you and everything Wyatt shows you."

The job had been simple, but now everything was crashing down on her.

"How can you say that after everything Rittenhouse has done for you?"

"You don't see that Rittenhouse treats its own followers the way they treat the rest of the people?" Emma said, still typing furiously. "They only exist to support the organization, but that's wrong- it's always been wrong. Rittenhouse exists to put power into the hands of people who EARN IT. No more of this 'dynasty' nonsense. You and me- we're gonna run this bitch."

She shut the laptop long enough to turn around and face Jessica. "Type up the mission briefing exactly as it happened," she said. "Tell the others to meet in the assembly hall at eight o'clock."

"What are we telling them?"

Emma smirked. "You're making your inaugural address, Madam President."

.

.

It was such a bizarre experience sitting down at the table and looking across at herself. Lucy watched her older self's mannerisms and realized she sat straighter and her eyes seemed more wary. She'd seen those behaviors before… in Wyatt.

Wyatt, 2018 Wyatt that is, was also observing his older self, his eyes narrowed but somehow Lucy imagined he approved.

Jiya and the other Jiya were sitting next to each other, completely at ease in each other's presence. Apparently this was something she'd dreamt about since starting at Mason Industries. They were all gathered in the common area- two Wyatt's, two Lucy's, two Jiya's, a Mason, an Agent Christopher, and a Flynn.

"To clear up any confusion before we get started," one of the Jiyas said. "Those of us from 2023 shall be referred to as _Prime_ Jiya, Lucy, and Wyatt.

"That will make things easier," Agent Christopher agreed.

"It helps that you had five years to prepare that," said Prime Wyatt.

Jiya blinked. "No- I just thought of that- me! NOT Prime Jiya."

"Let's move on," said Flynn. "First of all, you can travel in your own timestream now." It wasn't a question. Lucy noticed Prime Lucy watching Flynn, probably thinking the same thing she was- they were able to go back and give Flynn the journal.

"I call it the Hermione Modification," said Jiya, "like Hermione Granger's timeturner in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It locks unique quantum signature to the machine."

Mason blinked. "So you can be in two places at once, but…"

"The Lifeboat can't as long as it has the modification," finished Prime Wyatt. "We needed it to go back…" He stopped when Prime Lucy shot him a look. He glared. "We needed to go to a time that overlapped with another time we'd already been."

"But we still can't redo missions," explained Prime Lucy. "We agreed that going back to old missions would change the timeline too much."

"So what do you call this?" asked Agent Christopher.

"We need to change the timeline too much," said Prime Jiya. "For the past five years, we've been at war with Rittenhouse."

"They're calling it the Time War," said Prime Wyatt. "It's the next World War III and as of today, we've lost it's over. We came back to stop the war from breaking out."

"How does saving Rufus prevent the Time War?" asked Lucy.

"We can't say," said Prime Lucy. "Too much foreknowledge of your next several missions may change their outcomes. But we survived them, and you will too."

Lucy watched Wyatt carefully as the conversation was going on. He was being weirdly quiet and giving Prime Wyatt calculated looks.

"So," said Mason. "Time Team two-point-O. Let's get started. What's our first move?"

Prime Jiya turned to Jiya. "We need a few minutes in private. And you're not gonna like it. I didn't."

.

.

Jessica had never felt so many judging eyes on her, even at her own wedding. She felt awkward- like she should have a microphone or a podium or something, but the "assembly hall" was really nothing more than a raised dais in a storeroom with an 18-inch higher ceiling.

"Good evening," she said, but the assembled Rittenhouse agents were still mumbling. She looked behind her and Emma was nodding. It was not an encouraging nod. It was too stiff, like getting a nod from a giant owl.

She cleared her throat again. "Good evening," she said, a little louder this time. "By now, some of you have heard what has happened. Our beloved President, Carol Preston, and her grandfather, Nicholas Keynes, were shot and killed on their mission to 1888."

She was met with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. The next sentence was the kicker. The delivery had to be exactly…

"We killed them," said Jessica. "Keynes outdated methods and Preston's blind loyalty was keeping Rittenhouse under its own thumb."

They weren't shouting. That was a good sign.

"For months, we've been told 'don't run too fast' and 'don't fly too high'. We were told to _trust_ while the elite and the privileged enacted their perfect plan to keep those in power _exactly where they were._ That's not what Rittenhouse stands for- I wasn't fine with it and neither were you."

Someone shouted "Yeah!" and there was a scattering of approving claps.

"This is a new era of giving credit where credit's due," said Jessica. "We will reform Rittenhouse. Here we will empower and enable every visionary in our courageous organization to summit the pinnacle of their merit and beyond. Our union will be a government by and for those who earn it."

Now the whole room was applauding. Jessica wanted to look behind her and see Emma's reaction, but she dare not lose the crowd now. She could hear the curtain behind her drawing back. The time machine, gleaming in marvelous chrome, was standing behind her like a monument to Jessica's new title. "I am your President Jessica Logan and together, with the power of the newly dubbed _S.S. Initiative,_ we will drive what remains of Mason Industries into the ground and we will make Rittenhouse great again!"


	3. Prognosis Part 3

A/N: Hey Clockblockers! I bet y'all heard about the series finale by now! I'm super excited we'll get a canonical conclusion to our story. I'm also already invested in writing my own, so I'm gonna finish writing what was essentially going to be my headcanon for Season 3.

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 3

Jiya walked into her room with some trepidation and turned to see her mirror image follow her and close the door.

"This is probably the set up to Rufus's favorite viral video," said Jiya.

Prime Jiya smirked. "I remember thinking how cute it was that he was such an incel. Mom of course-"

"Told us to avoid men who watch porn, right." Jiya laughed. She sat on the bed. She was nervous but excited to be spending quality time with an older version of herself. She had thought about it often, particularly when contemplating time travel paradoxes. Never in the history of the world could someone else understand so well what was happening in another person's head. Their thoughts, their personalities, their memories- all literally identical. Even conjoined twins don't have that kind of relationship. But there was one thing Jiya wanted to know that only an older version of herself could explain. "If you don't mind my asking- and I honestly have no way of knowing since your experiences are so different from mine…"

"How'd I get over it?" Prime Jiya leaned against the dresser and fiddled with Rufus's X-Wing model. "It took a while. And I went down some bad paths. But I can't tell you."

Jiya nodded. "Because it'll change too much?"

"No," Prime Jiya corrected. "You won't have to do it. This should change history so much that my timeline disappears. You'll never have to grieve for Rufus again." She crossed over to the bed and sat on it across from her.

"You will have to work with me though- we're going to save Rufus together." Prime Jiya crossed her legs and extended her hands, palms up. Jiya mirrored her.

"Place your palms in mine," she instructed and Jiya obeyed. She immediately felt this surge of energy rush through her. "What is this?" she asked.

"Harriet called it the spirit, but I think there's a more biological explanation."

"Harriet… Tubman? You met her?" Jiya opened her eyes but quickly closed them after an irritated "shh" from her counter.

"The Lifeboat works by converting gravitational and magnetic energy into temporal energy. We use a denser gravity of the machine to manipulate time and space around us. I believe the temporal energy that radiates from the Lifeboat between jumps mutates our cellular mitosis, so when our cells regenerate, they actually regenerate in five dimensions."

Jiya gasped. "Creating alternative time streams that we can see and experience without ever leaving our limited dimension."

"Exactly," said Prime Jiya, smiling wide. "I'm so glad you understood it better than Mason."

"Well, great minds think alike," said Jiya.

"Now we're going to combine our dimensional projections," said Prime Jiya. "Harriet and I would use this to try to predict Rittenhouse's next move. With concentration, we should be able to see what we need to see and understand it fully in less than a microsecond."

"What do we need to see?" asked Jiya.

"To save Rufus, we need to take all factors into the equation. We need to know everything that happened to him starting from the moment Emma shot that gun. We can use the dimensional projection to recall a vision and understand it from multiple sides, at multiple angles, at a molecular level and an astronomical one."

"You mean we're gonna see Rufus die?" asked Jiya.

"We need to _experience_ Rufus die."

.

.

Wyatt was sitting alone in the control room again. It was less than an hour ago, in this spot, he'd admitted to Lucy that he was in love with her. Then everything changed. He'd barely had a moment to catch his breath. Now, he was certain that his path was clear.

"Before all this, I always told myself that if I could travel in time, I'd talk to my younger self and tell him to stop being such a dumbass," he said aloud to the room.

As he predicted, his future self was listening in. "It sounds like you already know."

Prime Wyatt strode into his view, but didn't join him on the floor. "You already know we think the same," he said.

"I know," said Wyatt, with some sense of despair. "Which is why I already know that you're not gonna tell me the answers to the any of the questions I have to ask. We both love and respect Lucy too much."

He looked up into his own dark eyes. "She forbid you from telling me anything about my future right?"

Prime Wyatt nodded.

"Damn," said Wyatt. "You're like the bitchy instructor at OTS. You have all the answers, but I'm in the middle of an exam and can't ask."

Prime Wyatt blinked. "Lucy's not here now. We only have a minute. Listen closely. Teach Flynn explosive ordinance disposal before your next mission. In 1969, find the army astronomer. And if you ever see _anyone_ who works for Rittenhouse, make your shot count."

Wyatt nodded. "Thank you. What about-"

Prime Wyatt quickly looked away and left. He was gone in a moment when Lucy came around the corner. "Were you just talking to someone?"

"No, I-" he jumped to his feet as Prime Lucy followed. He lost his train of thought at the sight of two identical Lucy's. "Whoa, still can't get used to that."

"Where is Wyatt? My Wyatt?" asked Prime Lucy.

Before Wyatt could come up with a lie, he was saved by the bell. The two Jiyas came running back into the room, announcing they'd solved it.

Once everyone had been summoned back into the common area, Jiya began with her presentation.

"Rufus was shot by a .22 caliber bullet here," she touched her chest at the upper left, just below the collarbone. "The bullet struck bone and ricocheted down, missing his vital organs and major arteries. It's embedded in muscles around here," she turned and gestured to her lower left back.

Wyatt's mind was racing. He'd seen gunshot victims before and something wasn't adding up. "His heart or lungs must have been damaged, though. How else could he have died so quickly? He was conscious in less than thirty seconds."

"He was unconscious, but not dead," explained Prime Jiya. "In the few seconds after Rufus was shot but before he lost consciousness, he was breathing and bleeding. Neither could've happened with organ damage."

"Okay," said Agent Christopher. "So what happened next?"

" Post traumatic catatonic shock," said Flynn, surprising everyone. "This wasn't the first time Rufus was shot. Chicago, 1931."

"His body recognized what was happening and shut down to preserve itself," said Jiya, smiling triumphantly. "If we can get an experienced thoracic surgeon to him within three minutes of him losing consciousness, we can save him."

Mason scoffed. "Then we've wasted our time, haven't we?" He looked between them. "Short of kidnapping a modern day doctor and forcing them into a time machine and hoping he'll actually perform the surgery we need within the limited time we have, what can we do? And we won't find one there- the field won't exist for another fifty years."

"Forty," said Lucy and Flynn together and Prime Lucy smiled.

"What we need," she said, "is a pioneer in thoracic surgery with an open mind and battlefield experience."

.

.

April 17, 1939

Shan-Gan-Ning, China

Cheng Wu was racing through the woods, blood dripping down his uniform front and back. His MP18 clattered uselessly around his legs as he ran, dangling from the strap that was supported only by his comrade.

Zhou was drifting in and out of consciousness, muttering deliriously as Wu carried him.

"Jihu…" said Wu, breathlessly… "Jihu…"

The trees abruptly stopped and Wu realized he was running through an open field. "Gaisi de!" he cursed and he heard Japanese shouts in the distance. From what looked like a hastily constructed tower overlooking the field which Wu now realized was an opiate farm, Wu saw flashes and felt more than heard the _hss_ as the bullets flew by him.

He altered course to the right, trying to keep himself and his comrade as small a target as possible while crossing the field as quickly as he could. There were more soldiers on the other side, ushering him forward.

He put on another burst of energy and made it, evading one last shot. The soldiers helped him carry Zhou in a stretcher through the trees and back behind friendly lines.

Wu nearly collapsed when he reached the tent and said in accented English, "Dr. Bethune!"

An older balding Canadian man with a pencil thin mustache and a cigarette between his lips turned to them. He spoke hurried but accented Chinese and quickly got Zhou onto a bed.

Then the doctor grabbed Wu's shoulder and gave him a reassuring grip. "Ni jiule ta." _You saved his life._

A/N: Alright, I might have taken some creative liberties with history, physics, language, AND medicine in this chapter, but I'm hoping the Timeless crew doesn't hold it against me.


	4. Prognosis Part 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 4

Flynn had never been part of a stranger trio. He'd hardly spoken more than ten words to Jiya in his time at the bunker. And brooding Prime Wyatt made original Wyatt look like a fairy princess.

They'd done as he instructed while he stole some clothes off a clothesline- unadorned gowns and tunics for himself and Prime Wyatt and a slim, stylish qipao for Jiya. "That should be the first thing Rufus sees after we save him," Flynn said, causing the blood to rush to Jiya's cheeks.

Through the overcast and dreary landscape, they followed the road. They were walking across an ancient-looking bridge to the capital city of Ya'nan, but the river they were crossing was low enough for them to see the mud. Most of the people around them were in military dress.

"Is this a military base?" asked Jiya.

"The city was converted into a military stronghold after the imperial Japanese started the conflict over an AWOL soldier," explained Flynn. "If Lucy were here, she'd tell you that the Sino-Japanese war was the largest and most destructive war on the continent. When people think of violent Asians they think of Genghis Khan raping and pillaging across the Mongolian Steppes, but this conflict had more than twenty million civilian and military casualties- accounting for over half of the casualties in the Pacific Theater. Before Pearl Harbor, before the Blitz, before Hitler invaded Poland, the second World War started here, in northern China."

The Chinese soldiers stopped them at the entrance to the city and Flynn spoke to them in Chinese. Their cover was that Flynn was an official from the Soviet Union, that Prime Wyatt was his body man and Jiya was a pregnant consort, and they were visiting the hospital before returning to Beijing. The soldiers searched them, but didn't find any of Flynn's guns, and they were allowed to enter.

Inside the city, the mood was just as desolate as outside. It appeared that all of northern China had sought refuge behind the city's walls. The streets were stuffed to capacity with thin and frail people dressed in dirty clothes and wrapped in mildewing blankets.

"Refugees," said Prime Wyatt, without emotion.

Flynn watched Jiya observe a pickpocketer meandering through the crowds, slipping nimble hands into the coats of passersby. The girl couldn't have been more than four years old.

They received instructions from some Chinese soldiers where the hospital was and made their way in that direction. The building was significantly smaller than any 21st century hospital- only three stories, but as modern as possible. The interior was clean- Flynn explained that sanitation and vaccinations were now routine, even if they weren't legally mandated, but there were surprisingly few beds.

"Most of the injured soldiers are treated on the front," said Flynn, "and most people here can't afford medicine."

"A tragedy and a crime, if you ask me," came a winded voice with a Canadian accent from behind. They turned to see an older doctor wiping his hands with a white towel and smoking a cigarette.

"Should you be smoking in here?" asked Jiya.

"Why not?" asked the man.

"Doctor Bethune?" interrupted Prime Wyatt. The man nodded. "I'm Dr. Doogie Howser, this is Meredith Grey and Gregory House. We have a gunshot victim who needs your immediate attention- I'm afraid it can't wait."

"Let me fetch one of my associates," said the doctor.

"Sir, I was asked to find you personally," said Prime Wyatt.

"I'm afraid I have my own patients, Doctor," said Bethune, letting a stream of smoke out of his flared nostrils.

"We can pay," said Wyatt.

"Don't insult me," snapped Bethune.

"We're not doing this anymore," said Flynn, and before either of the other could stop him, he brandished his sig and pushed into against Bethune's back.

"You will walk with us out of this city. You will not raise any alarm. You will do as you're told. Am I understood?"

.

.

Lucy found her older counterpart in her bunk. The badass reflection- that was the only way Lucy could think to describe her- was looking at the bookshelf.

Lucy had lamented to Agent Christopher while she was living in the bunker that she didn't have access to any of her research. So Agent Christopher had brought her own collection of both Lucy's and her mother's books. Lucy had nearly cried when she saw them and struggled to keep from smiling watching Wyatt, Rufus, and Flynn struggling to carry the boxes from Agent Christopher's car to Lucy's bunk.

"I know it's still fresh for you," said Prime Lucy. "Not just Rufus's death, but also mom's. I never did mourn her- not really. There wasn't any time- Emma and Jessica started working too fast."

Lucy nodded. "It's strange- all my life, she was this titan, the person I built my world, my career, my LIFE around and now… I don't even know what to think of her."

"Let me tell you what you think," said Prime Lucy. "You think her work, and be extension, your work, are her legacy. You're proud of your work, but now that you know your mother was part of a tyrannical secret organization bent on imposing their will on your country and the world, you're not sure if that legacy is something to be proud of."

Lucy smiled. "You've had some time to think about this."

"It helped me come to terms to remember that I'm her legacy," said Prime Lucy. "History isn't what actually happened. It's how we remember it that shapes our perception and our worldview. Remember what Robert Fulghum said?"

Lucy nodded. "The myth is more potent than the history."

They sat in silence for a while, Prime Lucy flipping through Lucy's book on the history of the Morello crime family.

"At risk of failing the Bechdel Test, I want to talk to you about Wyatt," said Lucy.

"He just told you he loved you," said Prime Lucy. She'd set down the Morello book and was now holding a biography of Supreme Court Justice Byron White.

"But, before we went to Chinatown, he hit me," said Lucy. "I mean, I'm sure it was an accident, but…"

She trailed off, wondering what Prime Lucy was going to say. But her older self was stubbornly silent.

"He came back with you. It's been five years and obviously he's still in your life, so…"

"You gonna keep ending sentences in conjunctions?" asked Prime Lucy.

"What should I do?" asked Lucy.

"To win this fight, you're gonna have to work with some people you may not like or may not trust. Wyatt's a soldier. He's made for violence and we were all pushing him. It may not have been right, but he's sorry and I looked past it."

The arguments had already occurred to Lucy, and she'd heard similar accounts- and excuses- in defense of violent men. Usually by their victims.

"Maybe I'll think differently once I stop this war," said Lucy. Prime Lucy's eyes narrowed.

There was a knock on the door. It was Agent Christopher. "They're back," she said.

The three women rushed to the control room just as the modified Lifeboat reappeared next to the original. Wyatt pushed the rolling ladder up so that Jiya could climb down, followed by Prime Wyatt and Flynn supporting a queasy looking Doctor Bethune.

The doctor was wide-eyed and trembling, looking at his surroundings like a rabbit caught in a trap.

"I told you," Flynn said. "Time travel."

"You know, Flynn, I forgot what a son of a bitch you really are," said Prime Wyatt. "You don't need to threaten to kill everyone you meet."

"He wouldn't take the money!" said Flynn. "Ever tried bribing a communist?"

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Doctor Bethune.

"Your services are needed," said Mason, appearing at their side with a tea tray. "How'd you like some tea?"


	5. Prognosis Part 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 5

Once he'd gotten some tea in his system, Dr. Bethune was more receptive to what the team had to say. Jiya still in her qipao, watched as Lucy and Prime Lucy explained everything to him, right from the start. How Rittenhouse was founded in the 18th Century to influence the course of history, how they began to lose influence and started financing Mason industries, how Mason invented the Time Machine, why Flynn stole it, and how Agent Christopher brought them down."

Bethune nodded along as they went, asking for clarifications here or there, but otherwise very interested in his crash course on time travel.

"The reason we chose you," explained Prime Lucy, "was because you knew how forward thinking you are."

At that, Bethune actually chuckled and hiccupped. "I am but the product and preceptor of my time, yes?"

"Exactly," said Lucy.

"Now, what I don't understand," he said, "is why not recruit a doctor from your own time?"

"Not a terrible idea," muttered Wyatt loud enough for Jiya to hear him and she smiled. She could only imagine what this conservative, gun-toting Texan might be thinking about recruiting one of Mao Zedong's right-hand men.

"Because we're still fighting what remains of Rittenhouse," said Lucy. "They were forced to reveal themselves." She hesitated briefly. "My mother was leading them. They redoubled their efforts, placing operatives throughout history, trying to build their perfect world. We stopped them, but…"

"We lost someone important to us," said Prime Lucy. "Without him, our cause is almost hopeless. That's why I came back- to correct a flawed history and preserve the one we know."

Bethune arched a skeptical eyebrow. "The one we know isn't flawed enough?"

"You've seen enough war for a lifetime," said Prime Lucy. "But that would still pale in comparison to what I've seen. Imagine a war that wasn't confined to time and space. Imagine every human being on the planet, for centuries, being under constant threat of bloodshed without a moment's warning. No place and no time was safe."

"I've fought in wars like you've known," interrupted Prime Wyatt. Bethune eyed him thoughtfully. "Trust me when I tell you, this Time War will be the end of civilization."

Bethune turned back to Lucy and Prime Lucy. "I imagine if I refuse to cooperate, you'll keep me here?"

"No," said Lucy. "You have a part to play in your own time. Remember, I want to preserve history." Jiya thought she cast a glance in Wyatt's direction- or had she imagined it? "If you refuse, we'll take you back."

Wyatt and Flynn both stiffened.

Bethune smiled. "Good answer." He stood. "How may I be of service?"

.

.

Jessica was pacing in her bedroom when she heard Emma knock. She admitted her and immediately began drilling her with questions.

"How do you expect me to lead? Most of them have never even met me? Why not you?"

"Calm down," Emma ordered and Jessica shut her mouth. "First of all, you need your prenatals." She led her by the hand to the washroom, where she found bottles of medicine she didn't recognize.

"Look, you're gonna be a mother," said Emma, "and I have no delusions that you'd put Rittenhouse ahead of your own child. But you have skills I lack- particularly when it comes to dealing with people. They would never follow me, and we both know why."

Because you're a bitch, thought Jessica, but she regretted thinking it. "You're a natural leader," Emma continued, pouring her a glass of water. "And you've received the same education I have. You'll know what to do. We can still make the world we want. Let's figure it out together."

Together they sat down, mapping out the issues in history that were important to them, what could've- and should've- happened. Jessica noticed multiple themes popping up here and there, all of which could've been related to one thing- strength.

They talked about how to ensure that American populations remained strong. They found examples where individuals- or sometimes organizations- elevated weaker people at the expense of those more qualified. They reshaped their world to make it pure, particularly for women. Individualism- things like nationality, sexuality, and ability. They had to be replaced with a cultural desire to be better.

"I was never all that homophobic," said Jessica, reading up on the sexual revolution of the '70s. "But seeing their influence on our culture like this…"

"Degradation of the family looking a little more dangerous now, huh?" said Emma. "You really think my father would've been such a piece of shit if sex WASN'T considered a commodity? Women did this to themselves. We need a society of actual feminists, like us."

"And if all goes well in 1912, I'll never have to hear that stupid Celine Dion song again." Jessica laughed.

"I knew how important that was to you," said Emma, smiling broadly.

Jessica looked over their list. They'd identified eight instances in history. If even one of them had gone differently, the America they'd be returning to would be stronger and more prosperous than ever.

"This is genius," she said. "And remarkably few people are actually going to die. How many more lives would be saved?"

"When looking at things in a historical context," said Emma, gripping Jessica's hand. "Infinite."

Jessica felt Emma's hand on her own. Her friend's pulse was quickened- or was it her own? She felt her belly, where she knew somewhere a little lima-bean was gestating, not yet realizing what a spectacular world was in store for it.

.

.

August 26, 1888

Finding the old saloon in Chinatown again wasn't nearly as hard as finding yet a _third_ secluded spot to keep the Lifeboat. While Jiya had hidden it in the hills back when she had first crashed and Rufus had landed in what would eventually become Golden Gate Park, Jiya now parked it in a secluded cove on the bay. "Hopefully the fog will keep it hidden," she said, checking her watch. "Twenty minutes."

She and Flynn had escorted Doctor Bethune up the bay area's famous steep banks leading to the paved streets. Before long, she found herself in her old neighborhood- Chinatown.

"There we are," said Flynn pointing. Sure enough, he, Lucy, and Wyatt were making their way into the saloon, Lucy's ridiculous skirt flouncing.

"This is astounding," breathed Bethune, wide-eyed.

"Now we wait," said Jiya.

Minutes passed as they loitered on the street, various Chinese passersby casting them glances. Bethune would nod and offer simple greetings in their own language. Flynn pointed again- Rittenhouse thugs were entering the saloon, guns already drawn.

"Those aren't from this time period, are they?" asked Bethune. Jiya shook her head. Her heart was racing and she wondered how she'd react to the scene she was about to witness. After a moment, they heard the sounds of gunfire and patrons fleeing the saloon. It was happening- very soon now.

The gunfire stopped and Jiya tried to remember what had happened. She had been so relieved- _so_ relieved that Rufus had survived the shootout. They were going home together. She should've realized it was too good to be true.

Lucy stepped outside the saloon first. Maybe that had been who Emma was aiming at? Wyatt followed, checking his left- why hadn't he checked his right first? He might've seen her.

Rufus stepped out.

Considering her heart was hammering so hard only seconds before, Jiya couldn't explain how it was suddenly still. He was there. Alive.

They heard the gunshot. Rufus's hand leapt to his chest, and he collapsed. Behind her, Jiya heard Dr. Bethune gasping, even though they'd warned him what would happen. It's something you don't get used to.

Jiya- the Jiya from 1888- was screaming now, covering Rufus's body. Jiya from 2018 felt oddly calm. She had experienced this exact moment about a hundred different times when she watched it with Prime Jiya. Every time, a terrible sickness had gripped at her stomach like she'd swallowed a spider. She felt it again now, but this time she was watching her past self. She saw her own face twisted in fear and anger and self-loathing. She knew she could never undo that experience of losing the person she loved. She'd felt it with her father too. Whatever happened next, living in the past for three years only to watch Rufus get shot over and over again had changed her. Would she even be the same person Rufus was in love with anymore?

"We're leaving," said Flynn as he watched Wyatt tear Jiya away from Rufus's lifeless body and follow after Lucy and Flynn. "Go!" Bethune grabbed his bag and dashed across the street. How many seconds of their precious three minutes had they lost? Flynn and Jiya followed.

Bethune said something in Chinese to the crowd gathering around Rufus and knelt at his side. His medical bag was already opened and he cleaned the entry wound in a flash. He applied some bandages to the wound itself, then gently rolled Rufus over.

"He's still in shock from the bullet," Dr. Bethune said and he stuck a needle in Rufus's exposed back. "I need to remove it." He retrieved a scalpel from his bag and appeared to be counting the parts of the spine down to where Jiya told him the bullet had lodged.

Two minutes ago, she was as confident of what she'd seen in her vision as all the times she'd seen it. Now, suddenly, she was less certain. How bad would this be if she was wrong? Prime Jiya and her team had told her about the Time War. How could so much destruction be prevented by saving one life in a dingy street in the 1880s by a World War II surgeon?

Rufus's flesh was now being held back with medical clamps and Jiya saw the exposed tissue beneath. It was as still as anything- the body wasn't recovered yet. "Please…" she whispered.

Then it happened.

Doctor Bethune triumphantly held the bullet above his head, not daring to look away. The muscle around Rufus's back started to move again and Jiya gasped with tears in her eyes. Flynn took the bullet from the doctor, who promptly took surgical threat out of his bag and began sewing Rufus back up, removing the clamps.

"It's safe to move him now," said Bethune. "Let's get him home."

.

.

Flynn stood with his hand on the Hermione modified lifeboat, possessively. He knew that it wasn't Prime Lucy who had come to him. The Lucy he'd first met all those years ago was less grunge, less battle hardened. He knew that their timestream had to be prevented, or otherwise his family was truly lost. Still, it didn't escape him that the machine in front of him was the key to getting Lucy's journal and starting his campaign in the first place.

Prime Jiya hugged Mason and Jiya in turn. "This is for Rufus," Prime Jiya said as she kissed her counter. Everyone gaped at the pair of them.

"Typically, I only do that to myself when I'm alone," quipped Mason. Wyatt couldn't help but laugh.

When they finally broke apart, Jiya's jaw gaped. "Wow- I am really good at that."

Prime Jiya shrugged. "I know what I like."

Prime Wyatt approached Wyatt carefully. "Don't even think about it," said Wyatt. Prime Wyatt actually smiled- it was the first time Flynn had seen him do that.

"Take care of yourself," said Prime Wyatt said, and he raised his hand. Wyatt grasped it and they pulled each other into a hug. "Oorah," they said together. When they pulled apart, Flynn noticed something on Wyatt's back. He cast a glance at Lucy, but she was talking to her own double.

"Remember, keep your eyes on the prize," said Prime Lucy. "There's still a chance to save Amy."

Lucy nodded, pulling her older self into a tearful hug.

While they were distracted, Flynn furtively slipped behind Wyatt and grabbed the thing on his back.

The three of them plus Doctor Bethune climbed into the Hermione modified Lifeboat and shut the hatch. Everyone watched the machine whirl to life and braced for the familiar sensation of its drag, caused by the gravity distortions.

Flynn took advantage of everyone's distractions and unfurled the paper Prime Wyatt had tried to slip Wyatt. He should've expected them to cheat at the game, but he didn't judge too hard. He figured he'd have done the same, if he thought he'd get away with it.

The note was so simple, Flynn read it through twice. _Don't let Jiya meet Tesla._

.

.

He was lying in his cot. The familiar smells of the bunker were around him.

He didn't remember getting here and he didn't care.

His whole body ached. He was afraid to move it.

He'd been asleep. He didn't know for how long. It must've been awhile.

Someone was holding his hand. He'd recognize that touch anywhere.

His eyes flicked open.

Jiya was there, her big brown eyes full of joy.

"Rufus?" she asked, her hand moving to his forehead. It felt cold to the touch.

"Jiya?" he said. "Are you wearing a kimono?"

The next few minutes were a haze- Rufus couldn't figure out what they were saying. Everyone was in the room- when had that happened? They were all talking at once, or maybe they were all silent. Something something, Hermione… something something communist China… something something surgery. That was all he got.

As far back as Rufus remembered, he'd never been content not understanding something. Plot holes in his favorite sci-fi movies pissed him off. Unfinished homework was an anxiety he hoped never to experience again. And unraveling the mysteries of women and everything about them- don't even get him started. But for as long as he'd live, he'd never forget the feeling of being the bunker that day.

He was surrounded by people he cared about and he felt so joyful to be there and he could tell without asking that they felt the same way. It didn't matter to him that he didn't know how or what had happened to bring him to that moment.

All that mattered was he was home.


	6. Prognosis Part 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Prognosis: Part 6

Rufus had once again slipped into a deep sleep and Agent Christopher had to lay down the law- "Everyone out- he needs his rest." They'd all complied except for Jiya, who changed out of her _qipao_ into her pajamas and curled up next to him on the bed. She was asleep in moments, her lips curved up into a peaceful smile.

Wyatt bid Flynn and Lucy goodnight as he returned to what used to be his and Jessica's bunk. He felt the pillow she used and realized he hadn't gotten a proper sleep since she'd left. He'd been awake nearly fifty hours.

He fell back onto the pillows, not understanding why he felt so miserable.

 _Jessica_.

He sat bolt upright- how could he forget.

The paper Prime Wyatt had slipped into his hand as they shook goodbye. They hadn't spoken a single word since the "heads up".

" _Teach Flynn explosive ordinance disposal before your next mission."_

That was simple enough, although the thought of working with Flynn made him scowl.

" _In 1969, find the army astronomer."_

That was harder to decipher, but maybe Jessica and Emma were gonna attack NASA again?

" _And if you see_ anyone _who works for Rittenhouse, make your shot count."_

Wyatt had been about to ask something before they were interrupted by Lucy. "What about my pregnant wife?"

He opened the paper.

It read.

 _Including Jess._

.

.

The Adventure Continues on Timeless: Emma and Jess go to 1915 Miami and Wyatt meets a personal hero. Rufus recovers from his surgery and starts thinking about his future.

A/N: This was my Season 3 premiere! Please leave reviews- I know I need constructive criticism but also, I'm a sucker for being told good things.


	7. Villa Serena Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless

Villa Serena: Part 1

Since Flynn had stolen the time machine nearly two years earlier, Rufus had become increasingly ok with the disconnected feeling time travel sometimes caused, but this was something else entirely. To him, practically no time had passed since Jessica abducted Jiya. However, the rest of the team had two days to prepare and conduct a rescue operation after he got shot. And on top of that, Jiya had spent over three years in the 1880s. She had learned about a hundred new ways of seeing the future. Meanwhile, Rufus had progressed from sleeping twenty hours a day to sleeping eighteen hours a day.

During the few hours of the day he was awake, Jiya was able to fill him in on their going ons. Agent Christopher was rarely seen, as DHS had her working other cases- apparently the Rittenhouse investigation had been delegated "non-essential" since it was reported that they lost their leadership. Connor Mason was working on duplicating the Hermione Modification, an act that Jiya said Flynn took particular interest in. Rufus noted that while Wyatt and Lucy were always all smiles and daffodils while they visited the room, neither of them could spare each other a glance. Jiya said she'd noticed it around the bunker as well.

Rufus was anxious to get back to work and help Mason with the modifications- "He's hopeless without me, you know he is" but Jiya insisted on him getting his full rest.

"You forget, I can see the future now," she said. "You're not going on the next mission, so obviously you need more time to recover."

"You and I have very different definitions of obvious," said Rufus. It was now nearly a week after he'd almost died and he'd already been able to sit himself up without ripping out the 1930s sutures. "If you can see the future now, do you know where we're going?"

Jiya's eyes rolled back into her head- she did this frequently now. "It's a suburban area," she said. "It's unbearably hot- there are a lot of fancy ladies fanning themselves. Emma's there but Jessica isn't. She's trying to get through the crowd. Nobody's chasing her, but she's trying to get away from the podium. She's trying to kill the guy who's talking. I don't know who he is."

"And where are we during all this?" asked Rufus.

"I told you," said Jiya, her expression unchanged, "you're not there at all. Wyatt is with me- he's pushing my head down while he's shooting at… somebody."

"Somebody?" asked Rufus. "You don't KNOW that it's Rittenhouse?"

Jiya didn't answer.

.

.

"Why are we doing this again?" demanded Flynn. He was in the kitchen with his least favorite Delta. Wyatt had been keeping him occupied all week, teaching him military things he couldn't care less about. "I don't deal with all this technical crap," Flynn complained. "I like guns and data. That's what I'm good at."

"Well you need to be good at more things," said Wyatt. "And I can't believe you haven't gotten more training on this stuff at the NSA. What did you even do there?"

"I told you," said Flynn. "Guns and data."

Wyatt shrugged. "Show me again."

Wyatt had crafted what was clearly meant to be a crude imitation of a pipe bomb- except that it was made out of paper towel roll. "We must talk to Jessica about Rittenhouse's budget if this is the best they can do," Flynn quipped. He watched Wyatt bristle at the mention of his wife, but the soldier kept his cool. Flynn had been experimenting off and on over the past week. Wyatt seemed resolved to not respond to anything Flynn said.

"Well, right away I see that there's no motion trigger,"- the fake bombs that Wyatt had been practicing with all had a tell-tale piece of thin metal.

"Good," said Wyatt. "And?"

"And that means that it's safe to move to a secondary location where an accidental explosion will hurt fewer people. Just me."

Wyatt ignored the second sentence. "What's next?"

"I have to find a way to safely remove the caps without disrupting the explosives inside."

And Flynn walked Wyatt through the process that Wyatt himself had walked him through. They'd done this so many times over the past few days that Flynn wondered why EOD technicians took months of training. Maybe Army grunts were just dumber than trained NSA agents. He couldn't make it more obvious to his tutor that he didn't care for this.

He was much more interested in the code that Prime Wyatt had left for Wyatt to discover. Flynn hadn't told anyone else in the bunker what he'd found, although he would've loved to see the look on Lucy's face. Imagine, Prime Wyatt going back in time and making changes to suit his own ends. Obviously without Prime Lucy's consent or knowledge. That was just too juicy.

But Flynn was at a loss to discover what the cryptic message might mean. It was very plain- _Don't let Jiya meet Tesla._ Flynn was of course familiar with Nikola Tesla, the Serbian innovator who worked for Edison Mechanics. Flynn knew Edison was Rittenhouse, but given what he knew about Tesla, he suspected that Tesla wasn't. So why shouldn't Jiya meet him? He was probably one of her biggest heroes.

 _BLARE. BLARE. BLARE._

The contents of the make-believe pipe bomb spilled out onto the counter- Flynn had been so startled by the alarm going off, he thought Wyatt must've done something. But no, it was the console telling them the Mothership had jumped.

"You're dead," said Wyatt, with a smirk.

"Shut up," said Flynn, throwing the paper towel tube over his shoulder.

Lucy and Mason were already at the controls, looking over the temporal signatures. "July 13, 1915, looks like south Florida," said Mason. He looked at Lucy and Flynn. "Any ideas?"

Lucy shook her head. "World War I's happening on the other side of the ocean, but America won't get involved for another two years."

"But the Germans just sunk the Lusitania, it's a topic of national debate," said Flynn. "Think Rittenhouse wants to get America involved and send more and more American men into the thickest part of history's deadliest conflict?"

"Maybe," said Lucy. "But why south Florida? You have to remember, America isn't a superpower yet. They need Congress to vote to declare war. Who's down there that could make that happen?"

.

.

July 13, 1915

The recently constructed Central Station was the most southern railway station in the United States. William looked out at the waving crowd and a band started playing to greet him.

He disembarked the train and gave the crowd a hearty wave. "It's good to be in the south again!" he proclaimed and the crowd cheered. There weren't many Midwesterners popular in this crowd, but he was one of them. The Floridians were ecstatic to see such a key member of the Democratic Party visiting them in the middle of nowhere. Soon, they were all going to be very rich land-owners again. And William couldn't wait to cash in.

"See you all there!" he said as he was ushered into a new Ford. "Welcome to Miami, Mr. Secretary," said the driver.

Yes. Welcome indeed.


	8. Villa Serena Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Villa Serena: Part 2

For the sake of time, the team decided to use old clothes from their 1893 and 1919 missions. As they changed, Connor called Agent Christopher on FaceTime. "I can't get away from the office at the moment," Agent Christopher was saying. Connor held the phone to eye level to better meet the camera. "What's the plan?"

"Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn are going," Connor said. "Jiya's piloting. Rufus still isn't fully recharged."

Agent Christopher nodded. Connor couldn't help but notice that she was meeting his eyes perfectly when he looked at the screen. That meant, of course, that she wasn't looking directly at her screen, but rather at the phone's camera. That way Connor would feel like he was actually meeting her eyes. Clever of her really, to give him the sense that she was meeting his gaze, but Connor wasn't fooled. Agent Christopher was _not_ here. She was finally off his back.

"Keep me posted on any developments," she said.

"What does Homeland have you doing now that's so much more important than Rittenhouse anyway?" Connor asked.

"You know I can't tell you that," said Agent Christopher. "Goodbye, Connor." And the video went black.

Connor smiled to himself. "While the nanny's away, the children will play," he said, sing-song to himself. He returned to the console with Rufus. The young man was watching the team board the Lifeboat. Something about the hatch sealing seemed to make him shiver.

Connor wondered what was going through Rufus's mind as the Lifeboat whirred to life. This was the first time he'd ever _not_ gone on a mission. "Jiya's as experienced a pilot by now as you were when you first took her out," Connor said bracingly. His last few words were drowned out by the machine vanishing into the past.

"I'm not worried about that," said Rufus. He didn't take his eyes off the spot where the Lifeboat vanished. "They don't know what's happening next. I know Jiya keeps telling herself otherwise because of those visions, but there's still too many variables. Emma and Jessica-"

"Jiya was abducted by Emma and Jessica and escaped in under two hours," Connor reminded him. "If anyone on that team will be sure not underestimate them, it's her."

Rufus nodded. "I can't lose her again, Connor. I love her, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with her."

Connor blinked. "What are you saying?"

Rufus finally turned toward him. "I need a lift to the mall."

.

.

"A lot different from my day," said Wyatt. He caught Jiya's eyes. "Spring break, 2005." Miami then, of course, had been surrounded by skyscrapers and bustling roads crowded with hundreds of tourist traps. Now, they were walking down a paved road that allowed for a few automobiles, but there were more pedestrians and horses. The surrounding buildings all looked small, but the paint was fresh and there didn't appear to be older than a few months. The one thing Wyatt did notice- which he'd gotten somewhat better at noticing as their missions continued- was how few white people were around.

"The city's practically brand new- it was incorporated less than twenty years ago by Julia Tuttle, first woman in American history to incorporate one of America's largest cities," explained Lucy.

"Want something done right? Hire a woman," said Jiya.

Lucy smiled and Wyatt's heart skipped a beat. "She had help," Lucy went on. "She got the Florida East Coast Railway to build a station this far south and convinced a lot of wealthy northerners to build here. The south is still recovering from the Civil War."

"Wasn't that fifty years ago?" asked Jiya.

"That's what happens when the backbone of your economy gets outlawed," smirked Flynn. Wyatt cast him a scowl, but the older man didn't notice. As awful as slavery was, Wyatt couldn't find it in his heart to be as gleeful at the loss of life and livelihood. Fifty years later? And people were still hurting?

"The development of Miami was great for blacks and migrants, though," Lucy went on, oblivious to Wyatt's misgivings. "Their labor built this town before whites realized its value, and landlords had to rent to them, or they'd have no tenants."

"This is all very interesting," said Flynn, sounding very uninterested, "but what about Rittenhouse?"

"Flynn's right," said Wyatt, grateful for the change of subject. "We've gotta focus. Something happened here today that Rittenhouse wants to change."

"Look at this!" said Jiya, hurrying them over. She led them to an office building, it looked like a property and loans office. A large printed poster was plastered on the window. Wyatt had nearly over-looked it- ads in the 21st century were more colorful and always moving.

"A new property is opening up today on the west side," said Jiya. "A whole neighborhood of Mediterranean-style housing."

"Of course!" said Lucy. "Wilson's Secretary of State, William Jennings Bryan, bought property down here. Made a killing as a result. He was also a voice for isolationism in the administration. He eventually resigns because everything Wilson does for the next two years gets the US closer and closer to war. If Rittenhouse wants to get America into WWI now, he's the person they need to convince."

"Or kill," said Wyatt. He hadn't forgotten the warning- _teach Flynn explosive ordinance disposal before your next mission_. "Let's get moving."


	9. Villa Serena Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Villa Serena: Part 3

Lucy noticed multiple people moving towards the new development with them. Upon reaching the neighborhood, Wyatt and Flynn split off, scouting out the neighborhood.

Lucy and Jiya were left in the crowd, each of them scanning the faces around them for any sign of Emma or Jessica.

"Lucy," said Jiya, "when Flynn had the Mothership, we know he was trying to erase Rittenhouse. Then when your mom and Keynes had it, they were trying to wipe out resistance to Rittenhouse."

"Yeah?" said Lucy, not meeting the young woman's eyes. She bit back a Wyatt-ish "What of it?"

"So what do Emma and Jessica want with it?"

Lucy thought about it. Truth was, she wasn't sure. She wracked her brains, trying to recall all she'd learned about Emma and all she could guess about Jessica.

Rittenhouse recruited Emma when she was young, getting her out of a pretty messed up domestic life. They sent her to spy on Mason Industries and eventually sent her to 1882 Missouri as a test of her loyalty. Then Flynn found her, and she improvised, gaining his trust and manipulating him into killing Anthony, one of only three people in the world who could pilot a time machine. Once Rittenhouse was exposed and Flynn was arrested, she was able to bring together what little of Rittenhouse remained to build the society Keynes imagined. Under the leadership of Keynes and Lucy's mother, though, Emma began to feel that Rittenhouse wasn't working for her. So once again, she improvised, taking out the leadership.

From what the Prime Team had told them, Lucy and Jiya managed to surmise that Emma was Rittenhouse's new leader. How had she persuaded them to follow her? How was her vision for Rittenhouse and America different from theirs?

Finally, she had to answer, "I don't know."

At that moment, Wyatt and Flynn returned. "We can't get any closer," Wyatt said.

Lucy blinked. "What is it? Rittenhouse?"

"No, there's too much security," said Flynn. "They're keeping out anyone who hasn't expressed interest in purchasing one of the houses. So unless either of you has a bank account in 1915…"

"We're screwed," said Lucy. She looked around at the crowd. She'd have thought it would be simple blending in.

Wyatt seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Lucy, what's on the other side of this neighborhood?" he asked, pointing at the big houses in the distance.

Lucy followed his gaze and shrugged. "Wetlands. Swamps. In 1947, Truman turns some of it into Everglades National Park, but most of it gets developed between now and then."

"Where's Greenpeace when you need them?" snarled Jiya, with some anger.

"We can come through the swamp!" said Wyatt, apparently not hearing Jiya.

"Are you crazy?" asked Flynn. "Maybe you can trek through bog, Bear Grylls, but the rest of us have lived our lives firmly on cement and mostly indoors."

"And even if we could, how do you expect us to blend in with the crowd once we show up covered in mud and swampwater?" asked Jiya.

"Not to mention bites from mosquitos, snakes, and- oh yeah, alligators!" Flynn snapped.

Lucy was the only one watching the grin spread on Wyatt's face. "You know a guy?" she asked.

Wyatt nodded. "I know a guy."

.

.

Wyatt drove the hotwired Ford, following the newly paved roads of Miami. He was proud, almost enough to forget the fact that he could probably go faster on a bicycle than he would in this dinosaur of an automobile. Yes, he was proud, as he always was when he knew about something on a mission as well as, or better than, Lucy. There were plenty of opportunities to show off in a typically masculine way- risking his life at the Alamo, storming the castle in Nazi Germany. It wasn't that often that he got to show Lucy that he was more than just muscle. However poor his public education, however glancing his knowledge outside of military tactics and procedure was, he was smart enough to know that Lucy was impressed with smart guys.

Jessica wasn't like that. Jessica- at least the Jessica he knew- was more impressed with spirit and tenacity. She liked it when Wyatt picked fights and yelled at the talking heads on TV. It was easy to show off for her.

It was a harder to impress Lucy, and it was a lot harder after Jessica- no, not Jessica… OTHER Jessica- had entered their lives. So now that Wyatt had his chance, he wasn't gonna waste it.

"It was Wendell Scott that gave me the idea," he said.

"Who?" said Flynn, irritating Wyatt beyond reason with the single word.

"Wendell Scott the 1950s racer-slash-smuggler?" asked Jiya. Wyatt noticed she gave Flynn an apologetic look from the rear-view mirror. "You missed that mission, hon."

"So who are we looking for?" asked Lucy as Wyatt parked the stolen car. They were at a harbor, ugly metal ships despoiling the salty, subtropical view.

"A rum smuggler," said Wyatt, "named Bill McCoy." He pointed at a small motorboat on the harbor with two men in white shirts and straw hats cleaning it.

"Prohibition won't take effect for another five years," Lucy reminded him.

"Before he smuggled booze, he was for hire," said Wyatt, jingling a bag of pre-1920s coins. "Think we can convince him to take us for a tour of the swamps?"

.

.

Emma allowed the Rittenhouse agent, some thug named Bennet, to escort her through the gates. There the armed guards reviewed their financial records- forged obviously- and allowed them to pass.

Once they were inside, Emma couldn't help but admire the buildings. The style was called Mediterranean Revival, but Emma thought they looked like royalty. The buildings rose up like palaces out of the lush, green lawns, their cream-colored facades complimenting the glare off the red-tiled roofs. They were all so new, so simple. Emma found herself wishing she could abandon the mission and reside here.

But no, she realized. Jessica and Rittenhouse needed her. There would be time and resources to build her own mansion in their new world.

"These mansions aren't nearly as large as the Cram, Goodhue, and Ferguson townhouse in Manhattan, darling," she said, drawing the attention of those nearby. "Surely the Secretary has better taste than these. Hearst will be so disappointed by my article."

The magic words did their job. A younger man, obviously hoping to get his name in the Hearst papers, said, "You obviously haven't seen the Secretary's house, ma'am. Villa Serena!"

He pointed up the drive to a house dwarfing the others in both size and grandeur. It was magnificent, with its double facade and surroundings of pillars and wrought iron fencing. Dark wood gables provided the porch and marble courtyards with what looked like tantalizing shade against Florida's summer sun.

"So that's Villa Serena," said Emma, her eyes narrowing viciously. "Hearst will simply have to call. What'd you say your name was?"

She wasn't listening as the young man answered. She was already studying the house, trying to decide where best to plant the bomb. She wondered if the house would look nearly as grand once it had been reduced to rubble.


	10. Villa Serena Part 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Villa Serena: Part 4

The phone buzzed, sending a furtive Denise's heart racing. She tried to check it without drawing attention, but it was just Olivia sending a funny meme. Denise didn't get it- something about Kermit the frog.

"Are we keeping you from somehting, Agent Christopher?" asked a stern male voice and Denise hurriedly laid her phone on its face.

"No, sir- just my daughter," she said. The men around the conference table all exchanged private snickers. Of course the only mother in the room was thinking about her family at a time like this. After all, none of _them_ could be bothered at work by their families.

"As I was saying," said the field agent, continuing with his presentation. It was a report on gun smugglers coming from south of the border and his team had nothing new, although the agent was adept at rephrasing everything said in his last report so that it sounded different. It reminded Denise of the time she'd found Mark copying his friends' homework only to change certain words here and there. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

"Part of our problem is our inability to verify with our sources south of the border," explained the agent, whose name Denise had long forgotten. "This makes us believe that the weapons aren't being smuggled from Mexico, but rather a central American country further south."

 _That's what happens when you rely on Mexico's port authority for intelligence,_ Denise thought privately. _It's not the information that's wrong, it's the people giving it to you. Half of the federales who were willing to cooperate with the US government were only doing it to mislead the intelligence._ But if she tried telling this guy that, she'd likely be slapped on the wrist for unsportsmanlike conduct.

"Thank you, Agent Yoon," said Bob, and the young agent took his seat. "Now, if you'll please turn in your hymnals to Operation Wells."

No one laughed at Bob's joke as they all flipped through the pages in front of them to Denise's report. She cleared her throat and stood up. The Operation was code word classified because not all the agents present were read in. Most of their report was blacked out- she kept hidden anything directly related to the physics of time travel or classified sources (read, people from different timestreams or anything Jiya learned from her visions).

"This past year, as you know," she said, "Connor Mason and I have been apprehending and eliminating sleeper agents still working for Rittenhouse. We believe the sleepers have been neutralized, but Rittenhouse is still in possession of the Well. We're not sure of their intentions for it."

"The Well" was the codename for the Mothership- many of the uncleared agents were under the impression that Mason had developed some kind of alternative energy that was weaponized by Rittenhouse. However, since they couldn't see the effects of Rittenhouse tampering with history, many of them grossly underestimated the implications. Since she'd been assigned to reclaim the Mothership, many months had passed without an observable threat or results. Sure, Rittenhouse's criminal enterprise was uncovered, but they simply couldn't understand why she alone was given so many resources or why the mysterious "Well" was still in enemy hands. It made Denise's participation in these reports considerably grueling.

"Tell us about Mason Industries," Bob instructed. "The President tells me he's still concerned about the company's rapid bankruptcy. Technology and aerospace engineering stocks are otherwise soaring, which looks good for the economy, but the fall of Mason Industries so soon after cooperating with the fed is giving chairpersons uneasy feelings about government contracts."

"You have to understand that most of Mason Industries was being financed by the criminal organization I was tasked with bringing down," Denise reminded him, for at least the twelfth time. "Connor Mason was forced into witness protection because of it- he wanted Rittenhouse destabilized as much as we did."

"He has business dealings with Congress and this administration," Bob reminded her. "Not to mention, generous campaign contributions to House Republicans who are nervous about keeping their seats this November."

 _And House Democrats- Connor believes in hedging his bets_ , Denise thought, but she didn't share that.

"If you'd like, I can bring Mason out of hiding but I can't promise that his fortune will be rebuilt between now and the midterms. Or that what remains of Rittenhouse won't have him killed."

"I have a question, Director Greenblatt," said another agent, a young woman named Hivver. When she was hired, Denise was relieved to have another female senior agent, but it became quite clear that that Hivver saw the office more as a place of competition than cooperation. Denise could respect that, but Hivver liked to play dirty.

"Yes, Agent Hivver," said Bob, who appeared to puff his chest out at the use of his job title.

"Substantial amounts of the report are redacted," said Hivver, "so I have to wonder how reliable the sources are, that they can't even be disclosed to fellow agents."

That wasn't a question, so Denise didn't respond. Bob read through it and said, "You're right- most of the trouble seemed to be coming from this Benjamin Cahill, Jacob Neville, and Carol Preston. And according to your report, Cahill and Neville and imprisoned and Preston was killed by the pilot, whose identity we can't confirm."

This was bureaucracy- without revealing time travel, Emma was legally dead, and as there'd been no mention of her in any of the evidence used to cripple Rittenhouse, she was still very much hidden from the federal government.

Denise replied, "The pilot murdered Carol Preston- our team confirmed that. We don't know what the pilot's intentions are for the Well."

"What about Flynn?" asked Bob. "Are we any closer to tracking him down?"

"We know he's in Venezuela," said Denise. "But our agents there are have no leads and the country's extradition policy prohibits their government from even confirming his presence," said Denise. This was precisely the reason she'd chosen Venezuela as a cover.

"So you have nothing?" said Yoon.

Denise shot him a glare that would've at least made her children cower. Unfortunately, DHS agents were resilient to "mom eyes" and even Hivver smirked along with them.

"I still have my team," she said.

.

.

"I don't think you understand what we do, son," Ben McCoy was saying. "We just take folks out on the ocean, let 'em do some fishin' and such."

"It ain't our business sneakin' y'all into some fancy boy's bash," Bill agreed.

They were standing on the dock by the McCoy's little motorboat. Jiya hung back, not sure how early twentieth century men felt about young Lebanese women. She noticed Flynn was also keeping his mouth shut. That left Wyatt and Lucy to do the talking.

"Please sir, you've gotta understand how important this is," Lucy was saying. "The people are in danger and security won't believe us."

"Yeah, what would John Hancock do?" asked Wyatt, gesturing at Bill, who blinked suspiciously. "He's your hero, isn't he?"

"He wasn't some ancient warrior, boy, he was a merchant and a Patriot," Bill said. "A statesman of honor and integrity. You think you can convince me to join in on some date-brained petty crime by dropping his name like a hat?"

Flynn smirked and Jiya looked at him. "Using the word hero as someone you personally admire won't be a concept for another few decades," he whispered.

Jiya nodded and turned back to the conversation. Lucy was talking now. "And wasn't Hancock the one who said that getting along with others was one of the noblest things a businessman could do?"

Bill McCoy nodded slowly, his straw hat keeping his eyes shaded. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Sir, I feel like I know you," said Wyatt. "I'm a soldier. I've served in war too. I know you were in Havana when the _Maine_ exploded." Neither McCoy said anything.

Lucy pressed on. "You know what the papers did after that," she said. "You saw how they manipulated and used the deaths of your friends to push America into war. That's why you left, isn't it? You've seen firsthand how terrible war is. We're trying to prevent something just as bad."

The McCoy brothers looked at each other and then Bill nodded. "In our boat, there's only one rule," Bill said. "You do as we say."

"Thank you, sir," said Wyatt, offering him the sack of coins again.

"Keep it," said Bill. "Let it never be said that the Real McCoy ever took a bribe, however well intentioned."

Wyatt pocketed the bag with a shrug and gestured for Flynn and Lucy to climb aboard the motorboat.

"Nicely done," Jiya said to Lucy as she settled in the seat beside her.

"We're not out of the woods yet," said Lucy.

"What woods?" asked Ben, who'd been listening.

"Nothing," the two women said together.

.

.

As it turned out, "woods" was not the most accurate 21st century phrase Lucy should've employed. The Everglades were harsh and unforgiving. It'd taken maybe twenty minutes for the McCoy brothers to motor out of the harbor and up one of the many waterways that led to the swamp.

Then they were forced to reduce their speed to barely fifteen knots as they crept past pillowing fluff mud and low-hanging branches.

"Watch your head," Ben warned whenever they came across one. "Snakes like to jump atcha if you disturb 'em in the branches."

Thankfully, Flynn never saw any snakes although Jiya swore she saw an alligator. Wyatt said it was probably a log, but he looked nervous.

Bill and Ben were reading an old map that looked like it might've been printed on animal skin. Flynn reasoned that it was probably safer against the elements, but he was sure that the new developments would not be on it.

"This oughtta be it," said Bill, cutting the motor off and letting the boat come to a rest up against a muddy shore. Wyatt jumped out and hauled the boat further up.

"We'll wait here for you," said Bill, handing the map to Wyatt. "We think the developments are right along here," he pointed. "Should be maybe a ten minute walk. Watch out for cottonmouths, though."

"Jeez, you can never get away from snakes in this state, can you?" quipped Jiya as she followed Wyatt through the shrubs.

"You've obviously never been to Australia," said Flynn right behind, helping Lucy with her skirt.

They trekked through the relatively dry forest, occasionally walking around mud and twice looking for an alternate route through some high grass where no one wanted to risk snakes.

Finally, up ahead, they saw the houses. "There's Villa Serena," said Lucy, pointing at the grandest one. "That's Secretary Bryan's house."

"Please, let's get indoors," said Jiya, panting. "Florida in July is literally hell."

"You know that house won't have air conditioning, right?" said Flynn.

Jiya blinked. "That is the meanest thing you've ever done to me."

"Do we know Emma's there?" asked Wyatt, ignoring them. "What if she's in the crowd?"

"Jiya, what do you see?" asked Lucy, turning to the younger woman.

Jiya rolled her eyes backwards and her lips starting mouthing words silently. Flynn, who had never seen her visions before, thought it looked alarmingly like a supernatural possession. He wasn't sure if he believed in hell and demons, but the appearance unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

"I see Wyatt chasing somebody through the crowd, but I can't see who. Bryan's there too, but he's not gonna be there long. He goes back to his house."

"Ok," said Lucy. "Wyatt, you and Jiya go to the crowd. Look for anybody Rittenhouse. Flynn and I will go to Villa Serena and wait for Bryan there. If anything goes wrong, we meet back at McCoy's boat."

While she spoke, Flynn noticed Wyatt giving him an odd look, then turn back to the house. He looked like he wanted to argue, but couldn't. Was he trying to stay on Lucy's good side? Or did he have another reason to want to go to the house? Would Jessica be there?

"Alright," Jiya said, and to Flynn's relief, her eyes returned to their appropriate position. "Let's roll."

He and Lucy took off at a jog out of the woods and through the grass to Villa Serena. The back door was unguarded and Flynn realized why.

"Emma's already been here," he said, pointing to the trail of blood on the back porch. It led to a guard whose body had been unceremoniously thrown in the bushes.

"Oh, god," said Lucy, pushing her way into the house. The back door was connected to the front door by a grand foyer, with stairways on either side. Flynn moved forward and looked under a decorative spindly table against the wall. He immediately saw why Emma had broken in. And this pipe bomb definitely wasn't made out of a paper towel roll.


	11. Villa Serena Part 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Villa Serena: Part 5

The sun was setting when Denise was finally at her car. She calculated the time it would take to drive up to the bunker and then back into the city, pick up dinner and make it. The kids better have their homework done, because they're not eating until 8:00.

She had just fished her keys out of her purse when she heard her name called. Turning on her heel, she saw Bob Greenblatt hurrying up towards her.

There's a reason parking garages are cliché. Mark Felt immortalized it as the ideal setting where no party can be overheard. People bug homes and offices. And to catch the times in between, they bug cars. Anywhere else was a free-for-all. And the echo provided in concrete structures distorts the sounds picked up by parabolic microphones.

All this is to say that Denise never believed for a second that she and Bob just happened to reach the parking structure at the same time.

"We're in luck," Greenblatt said. "With Garcia Flynn," he said after her confused look. "A DEA contact of mine happens to be on assignment in Venezuela. He's running interference on a trafficker out of Caracas. This trafficker has been in three of the same countries as Flynn over the past six years. You know, it could be nothing, but we've gotten leads on less." He shrugged, with a little twinkle in his eyes.

"Do you want me to reach out to the DEA agent?" asked Denise, professionally.

"No, don't worry about it. You just focus on identifying this Rittenhouse pilot." He turned and walked away.

Denise returned to her car, her face expressionless, her mind racing.

.

.

Jiya and Wyatt had reached the crowd again- someone was standing on a podium and talking- Jiya checked the man's face twice, but it wasn't William Jennings Bryan.

"Bryan's not here," she whispered to Wyatt. "Do you think he's going back to his house? Should we warn the others?"

Wyatt peered back at Villa Serena and it looked like he was mulling something over. "No," he said. "They're fine."

Jiya wondered how he could've known that- wasn't she the one with visions? And they were getting dangerously close to the one she'd seen earlier- Wyatt running through the crowd, shooting at an unseen target. She scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of Emma or Jessica.

"Jiya, can't you find them?" asked Wyatt. "Y'know, with your…" he gestured vaguely at her eyes as if her visions were some taboo subject.

She sighed and rolled her eyes back in her head. That was odd- now Wyatt was hurrying back to Villa Serena. She watched him burst through the door. There was Flynn and Lucy, looking hopelessly at a small device underneath a spindly table. A bomb!

She came back to the present in a hurry, gasping. "Wyatt!" she called. "Wyatt!"

But Wyatt was too far away now. She watched him from a distance draw his gun and shout something, but the din from the crowd was too much for her to hear.

There was a bang and suddenly everyone around was screaming and running. The crowd jostled Jiya back and forth as she struggled to catch up to Wyatt.

 _Blam! Blam!_

Two more shots, a flash of red.

Jiya finally caught up to Wyatt, but the blood wasn't his. "I had a clear shot," said Wyatt. "I had to take it."

Jiya looked at the perfectly manicured hand reaching toward the fallen revolver, the mess of dirty blonde hair under the era-appropriate hat.

Wyatt turned the body over and Jiya saw an unfamiliar face and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

.

.

Lucy watched with trepidation as Flynn seemed to watch the bomb closely. "Well," she said. "You planted one of these on the Hindenburg. You know how to stop it?"

Flynn shook his head without saying a word.

"You learned how to arm bombs but never how to stop one?" she said.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"Why?"

"I didn't want to stop the bomb on the Hindenburg."

Lucy started walking toward the front door. "I'm getting Wyatt," she said.

"We don't need him," said Flynn quietly. "The bomb isn't triggered by motion. I can move it." Lucy watched incredulously as Flynn gingerly peeled the bomb back from the adhesive.

"This adhesive has been used to attach explosives to targets since WWII," said Flynn. "The compound has changed very little."

"Yeah, yeah," said Lucy. "Just be careful."

He held the bomb evenly in his hands and started moving toward the back exit.

"Where are you going?" asked Lucy.

"Away from him," said Flynn, gesturing with his head. Lucy turned to see Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan walk through the door.

He blinked at the sight of her. "Who are you?" he said.

"I'm with the State Department," said Lucy, thinking quickly. "Tea Leoni?"

"Lucy," said Flynn. "There is a bomb in my hand. Is this the moment?"

"Right," said Lucy, and she turned back to him and they quickly ran out the back, leaving a baffled William Jennings Bryan behind her.

Flynn walked stiff legged to the swamp and tossed the bomb into the water. Lucy watched for a few seconds and then water and mud shot up into the air in a muffled explosion.

Another second and Lucy felt a hot wave of mud slam her entire body. Winded, she lowered her head and spread her arms, attempting to keep the mud and muck from dripping on her ruined 1919 clothes.

She heard Flynn laughing and looked up at him. He waved his hands to dislodge any loose mud and tried to wipe his face clean.

"This is the quintessential Florida experience," he said. "In 2018, Floridians do this for fun."

"Shut up," said Lucy.

.

.

Through all the chaos and confusion, only one officer was able to get close enough to Wyatt and the dead Rittenhouse agent, and Wyatt quickly incapacitated him and took Jiya by the arm and ran for it.

He tried not to think of those five seconds.

They reached the swamps behind the housing where they found Flynn and Lucy practically rolling in laughter and mud.

"Did you defuse the bomb?" asked Wyatt.

Lucy's laughter died long enough for her to say, "No, we threw it in the mud."

"How'd you know about the bomb?" asked Flynn, quickly.

"Jiya saw it," said Wyatt.

Flynn squinted his eyes at Wyatt like he knew something. Wyatt figured he was suspicious, but he didn't care.

Five seconds.

The team made their way back to the water where Bill and Ben McCoy were waiting.

"Always get mud in the boat," said Bill, shaking his head. "Best get in. Let's get you home."

"How'd y'all do?" asked Ben.

"The secretary's safe," said Flynn.

"And Rittenhouse?" asked Lucy, looking back to Wyatt and Jiya.

"One agent dead," said Jiya, then, "No one we know," after a meaningful look from Lucy. Wyatt could feel her eyes on him but stubbornly avoided meeting her gaze. Instead he watched the swamp water roll past their little motorboat.

Five seconds. For five seconds he was convinced he'd just shot and killed his wife. He'd made a solemn vow in front of God to love, honor, and obey her in all things. But he saw her with a gun and he shot her.

Prime Wyatt must have known he'd run into the agent, who he could only surmise Emma had on this mission because she looked so similar to Jessica. Prime Wyatt knew he'd take the shot, knew he'd put her down.

 _Make your shot count. Including Jessica._

But then again, he'd also warned him about Flynn and the bomb.

"Jiya," Wyatt whispered, barely audible over the rumbling of the motor. "What did you see in your vision again?"

Jiya looked around but no one was paying attention. "Lucy runs out and grabs us. You follow her back and disarm the bomb."

"But instead Flynn threw it away?" said Wyatt.

"I know," said Jiya. "I can't think what changed."

Wyatt thought he knew. In the time stream where they don't save Rufus, no Prime Wyatt comes back with a cryptic message to teach Flynn EOD. Wyatt doesn't do it, Flynn can't disarm the bomb, and Wyatt has to.

That means that Prime Wyatt didn't know that Wyatt would shoot and kills a Rittenhouse agent.

His head started to hurt and Wyatt tried to stop thinking about it. He focused instead on the rocking of the motorboat as it traveled up the creeks back into the harbor.

Before they disembarked, Wyatt shook hands with Bill and Ben McCoy.

"You look troubled son," said Bill.

Wyatt turned back to the others- they were all too far away to hear, not realizing he was hanging back.

"Someone told me what to do on this mission," said Wyatt, looking back at the two bootleggers. "Someone who knew what they were talking about. He makes the rules, I follow them. And I did but… I can't stop thinking that it wasn't the right call."

Bill nodded. "Son, you know what the only thing people in this country have consistently done since it started?" Wyatt shook his head and Bill leaned in like he was sharing a secret. "Kick the rules in the teeth." And he winked.

.

.

Rufus's heart was racing and he was sweating. It was almost like reliving Chinatown, but he knew this feeling had nothing to do with Emma shooting him.

The Mothership had returned a few moments ago, and any minute now the Lifeboat would come back too. He tried to envision Jiya climbing down from it- tried to decide where the best place to meet her would be.

He felt a hand bracing his shoulder and knew that Connor was behind him, in every sense of the phrase.

The console started coming to life- screens illuminating the jump trajectory through time and space. "That's my girlfriend," he said, watching the machine land perfectly.

The hatch opened and Wyatt stepped out first, rolling the safety ladder over. Lucy was next, followed by Flynn, both of them covered in partially dried mud from the looks of it.

"What'd Rittenhouse do?" asked Connor. "Attack a pig farm?"

"No, that was Flynn," said Lucy.

Rufus wasn't paying attention to any of them. He had eyes only for Jiya who was finally making her way toward him.

"Taking it easy, I see," she said and she kissed him quickly.

"Hopefully, never again," he said.

The door opened and they turned to see Agent Christopher entering. "Did I miss the whole thing?" she said.

"Pretty much," said Flynn.

"But I'm glad you're here now," said Rufus and he turned back to Jiya. "Look, I'd love to make this the great rom-com climactic scene it should be, but the fact is, that damn alarm could go off again any second and I'll be on the Oregon Trail dying of dysentery, so I'm just going to ask this as quickly as possible."

And not stalling for even a second, he dropped to his knee and reached into his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

And there was the ring- a beautiful half-carat diamond encased in a perfectly oval setting and stacked on a simple gold band.

Lucy's hand jumped to her mouth, Wyatt appeared to be nodding with approval, but Rufus had eyes only for Jiya. Her face had lit up as bright as the Mothership ever had her hands trembling as she reached out for the ring.

"Of course!" she said and then they were kissing again.

Despite the lateness of the hour, they all stayed up. Mason fetched his finest bottle of scotch and Flynn and Lucy couldn't even be bothered to change out of their dirty clothes. After everything that had happened to them over the past few years, everyone was just so relieved with the brief evening of normalcy. Something as simple and hopeful as engagements and marriages were still part of the world. However much they time traveled, things were still moving forward.

As the evening swiftly turned to night, one by one, they drifted out of the party. But Rufus and Jiya stayed up, dancing to Mason's old records.

"We should get some sleep," said Jiya, with reason.

"No, let's stay up," said Rufus, not losing step.

"Ok," said Jiya, laughing. "For how long?"

"Until we stop."

"We're never gonna wanna stop."

"That's fine."


	12. Villa Serena Part 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

Villa Serena: Part 6

After a very thorough shower and applying calamine to her mosquito bites, Lucy finally collapsed in the bed. She fell asleep almost immediately and dreamed of Emma, Jessica, and her mother.

The three women's faces danced around her, laughing and jeering. Their clothes and hairstyles seemed to be constantly melting into something different- something from another time. One moment they were wearing roaring 20s dresses and jewelry, the next looked like conservative Puritan garb.

Lucy awoke with a start. Her watch said several hours had passed, but she felt like she'd gotten hardly any rest at all.

She dragged herself out of her bunk and made her way to the kitchen. Rufus and Jiya it seemed had fallen asleep on the couch, her head on his chest, the ring glinting amongst their intertwined fingers.

Lucy smiled at the sight of them, then proceeded to work with the coffee maker. Either the bustle in the kitchen or the smell of brewing coffee must've awoken Jiya because she stirred and uncurled from Rufus.

"Morning," she said as she made her way over.

"Good morning," Lucy replied, still smiling. She poured a cup for Jiya and one for herself. Jiya accepted hers gratefully.

They sat in silence for a moment, each sipping on their coffee.

"I think we were wrong about why Rittenhouse wanted to take out William Jennings Bryan," Lucy said after awhile.

Jiya said nothing, waiting for Lucy to continue.

"I was thinking about it, trying to remember all I'd read about Woodrow Wilson. There's no way he would've gotten the US directly involved in the war at that time- he practically built his re-election campaign around isolation. Plus, Bryan left the administration later that year. Started focusing on building his own fortune in real estate."

"Okay," said Jiya. "So what would he have accomplished?"

"Bryan was a prominent businessman. He had a stake in cheap labor. Even after he left the administration, he continued to finance some really nasty policies. Immigration. Prohibition."

"But Rittenhouse supports those things too?" said Jiya.

"Maybe old Rittenhouse," said Lucy. "But with Emma in charge… she's always been resentful of people who quote 'had their lives handed to them'. She was always calling me princess. She took out the old leadership."

She bristled, trying not to think of her mother that way.

"Rittenhouse was about protecting themselves. Maybe now it's about protecting more than just themselves, but elevating a select few and pitting them against each other. It's enforced Social Darwinism."

The two women were quiet for a moment, thinking of the implications. Limited access to education, health care, birth control. More crime. More poverty.

"It's not a new Rittenhouse," said Lucy, her temper rising. "It's Rittenhouse on steroids."

 _And she killed my mom._

.

.

The Adventure Continues on Timeless: Rufus and Jiya rush to get arrangements for a wedding. Connor introduces the team to an old friend. Rittenhouse tries to silence an important voice for Americans with disabilities. And the team faces a ticking clock they never anticipated.

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you're enjoying this! I'm getting lots of views, but not a lot of feedback. Please review after reading- I know there are areas I can improve and I really want this fic to do the show justice.

I'm going to start publishing three a week- I'd like to get this finished before the Series finale in December.

Love you guys! And don't forget to review!


	13. The Ox Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

The Ox: Part 1

A few days after the engagement, Flynn was going out of his mind.

"What's the rush?" Jiya was saying. "We have all the time in the world."

"Uh, exactly the opposite," Rufus replied. "If anything, these missions have shown that we could die at any moment- literally _any moment_ in history. Ergo, the sooner the better."

"Don't you 'ergo' me!" said Jiya. "Flynn, don't you think it's completely pointless for us to rush this wedding?"

They were in the kitchen. Why they were in the kitchen was a mystery to Flynn. He was there to scrounge up fixings for a sandwich. Rufus and Jiya were there apparently to torment him.

"I really have no opinion," he said, emptying a jar of sour kraut on his plate.

"Opinion on what?" came a voice, and Flynn saw Wyatt move into the area.

"Ouch!"

Flynn had been in the middle of slicing his sandwich into halves when Wyatt walked in, causing him to cut his thumb. Grimacing, Flynn walked to the sink and washed the cut under hot water.

"Here," said Wyatt, catching Flynn's eye and tossing him the first aid kit mounted on the wall. Flynn grunted his thanks.

Flynn had been distinctly cold to Wyatt, despite the latter's attempts at being amicable. It wasn't hard to see why- Prime Wyatt had left one hidden message to his past self. Who's to say there weren't others? And wasn't it fortunate that Wyatt was teaching Flynn how to defuse a bomb? And their very next mission brought Flynn face to face with one? Flynn tried to imagine for a second what he and Lucy might have done. Lucy had been about to run after Wyatt- Wyatt who at that same moment was chasing after Rittenhouse agents. Had Prime Wyatt let the agents escape in his time stream so he could run back to the house to save Lucy?

Flynn still had the message he'd recovered- _Don't let Jiya meet Tesla._

Flynn now looked at the young bride-to-be, arguing over something simple with her fiancé. Why was that so important? Did Tesla have something to do with the Hermione modification?

.

.

Rittenhouse funerals were brief affairs. David Rittenhouse believed that death was irrelevant- a weakness, and something best reserved for those more deserving of it. Once you'd died, your contributions to Rittenhouse were over and you were of no more use to anyone. Best honor your accomplishments in life quickly and move on.

The girl's name was Rachel Masters. Emma chose Masters to accompany her and Bennet on the mission. The girl wasn't a particularly gifted operative. Not smart. Not strong. No, she was special because she happened to look like Jessica. Emma wanted to see what Wyatt would do.

And apparently Wyatt was willing to shoot his own wife.

After the funeral Emma went to Jessica's quarters and knocked on the door. Jessica opened, still changing out of her funeral blacks.

"Hey," she said.

"Sorry to intrude," said Emma, looking at Jessica's state of half dress.

Jessica shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I feel so damn sexy all the time. I swear if Wyatt was here, I'd jump his bones in a heartbeat."

Increased libido was to be expected around this time, Emma supposed. "Wyatt's what I'm here to talk to you about," she said, shutting the door.

Jessica's face fell. "I read the report," said Jessica. "I know he was the one who shot Rachel."

"I think he thought she was you," said Emma. "And honey, you're too valuable to risk on these missions. You're president now. You should be here, running the organization, and watching out for number one." She gestured to Jessica's baby bump.

Jessica sighed and nodded. Emma thought she looked relieved. "The missions are exciting and they're important," Jessica argued back, instinctively.

That's old Rittenhouse talking for her, thought Emma. "There's no way of knowing what time travel will do to the baby," she said.

Jessica nodded. "You're right." She heaved a sigh of relief. "You should probably get to planning the next mission."

Emma nodded. "I'm way ahead of you. I think I need to hit her while she's at school in New York."

Jessica blanched. "So young? Why?"

"Several reasons. She was famous young. There are people we can influence. And I think we can trap Flynn and the princess into an _untimely_ death." She smirked.

"What does that mean?" asked Jessica.

"Just you wait," was all Emma said.


	14. The Ox Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

The Ox: Part 2

Connor sat in the gallery of a fashion show, watching six-foot tall women in their twenties parade down a catwalk. They were adorned in assorted dresses and skirts, each one more fantastically overdone than the last. The photographers and fashion reporters in the front rows all gushed.

"Next, from Tobias Junipero's Neyo Tryggo Line," said the announcer and the next model walked down the catwalk wearing a skimpy cocktail dress that looked like it could've come from the 1920s, except the designs, cuts, and gemstones along the neckline looked distinctly modern.

After her came a girl wearing a hoop skirt that wouldn't have looked out of place on the set of a western, but with heels and long-sleeve satin top. And after that, a 1940s flowery dress, except the designs of the flowers flashed distinctively similar to the go-go girls of the '80s.

Connor applauded for every one of them.

After the show, he made his way backstage, keeping his eyes peeled for a familiar face, but in fact, found his friend by the sound of his carrying voice.

"Why did you allow this kind of lighting for my show- I told you to get the full effect of this line, we need solid, not flashing. We're seducing the prime minister at a foreign dignitaries ball, not twerking with our gal-pals in a second-rate club."

A short Filipino man wearing high-waisted Dockers and striped suspenders came into view, gesturing madly. "It's like you're trying to make me cry, but I swear to you that I won't! I will simply plot your murders tonight before bed." The man looked around and caught sight of Connor then sighed.

"Hello, T.J.," said Connor. "Buy you a drink?"

The designer scowled. "Will it replace the collection rented for your special project?"

"Bought and paid for," corrected Connor.

"But with the promise that they'd be returned!" said TJ. "Those clothes were absolute top of the line and your office 'accident' burnt them to a crisp!"

T.J. had a flair for dramatics, but Connor actually felt in this case, he was justified.

"I'm sorry I lost all your clothes, but I think I might be able to offer you something."

T.J. shrugged. "I hate that you know I probably wanna get out of this racket," he gestured at the changing rooms around them, earning himself several rude stares. "Yeah, I said it!" he snapped at the nearest grip boy. "And stop ogling the models! Buy the pictures in the trashy magazines like all the others!"

"The people who destroyed your collection are still trying to dismantle my entire operation," said Connor. He leaned in close to T.J.'s ear and whispered, "What if I told you what I was really using all those designs for?"

.

.

Jiya was flipping through photos of wedding dresses online. "What about this one?" asked Lucy, and Jiya looked over. Lucy was showing her a picture of a Middle-Eastern woman in a wedding dress with a headdress covering everything except her face.

"God, no, why would I want that?" asked Jiya, then she noticed the searchbar. "Did you Google Lebanese wedding dresses?"

Lucy opened her mouth but said nothing. Her hands waved around in a sort of shrug for a second.

Agent Christopher laughed. "The same thing happened at my wedding. All my white friends, completely well-intentioned, kept telling me to try on traditional Indian dresses. No one cared that I wanted to wear my dress blues from my Metro days."

"I am an American girl, I want a culturally American wedding. I want a white dress, I wanna throw a bouquet, and I wanna dance to Shania Twain's 'From This Moment'."

"All you're missing is the awkward cousin who no one actually wanted there," said Lucy.

When Jiya would tell this story later, Flynn came around the corner immediately after that statement. In actuality, it was at least twenty or so seconds.

"More wedding stuff," he said, trying to sound revolted, but Jiya could tell he was eyeing their laptop screens with a kind of glee in his eye.

"Flynn, you're a man," said Jiya, quickly. "What's your opinion on this dress? You see the love of your life wearing it, had badly do you wanna rip it off?" It wasn't long after that that Flynn was actually leaning across the couch, looking at all the dresses with them.

The scene was interrupted with the appearance of Mason and someone none of them knew.

"Did you leave the bunker?" asked Agent Christopher, looking back at the entrance. "How-?"

"Really, Denise, I'm an engineer," said Mason. "This…" he continued, ignoring Agent Christopher's scolding look, "is Tobias Junpiero, the greatest fashion designer in the world. And one of my closest friends."

"Call me T.J.," said the man. "Tobias Junipero is way too Hollywood."

"You are Hollywood," Mason reminded him.

"And hate every bit of it," said T.J.

"T.J. designed most of the clothes you've worn on your missions," said Mason. "Everything that burnt up when Rittenhouse bombed us."

"Those were all yours!" said Lucy with surprise. "Those clothes were perfect! You didn't recreate the vintage look, you actually used the materials and craftsmanship that people used back then!"

T.J.'s eyebrows shot up into his forehead. "Someone who appreciates attention to detail. Nice to meet you, Mrs…"

"Miss... uh, Professor Lucy Preston." Flustered, she stood up from the couch and shook his hand, ignoring the laptop that had fallen to the floor.

"Calm down," Jiya whispered. "You're not his type. Trust me."

"Well, I heard you were down on your luck financially, Connor," said T.J., looking around the bunker. "This is worse than expected. And what does this have to do with my clothes?"

Before Connor could answer, the alarms started sounding. "They jumped," said Flynn, leaping to his feet and hurrying toward the control room.

"Who jumped? What's happening?" asked T.J.

"Better to show you," said Connor.

"Might as well, since apparently this operation is no longer covert," growled Agent Christopher.

The team, including Rufus and Wyatt, were all assembled around the console, T.J. hanging back somewhat, watching the proceedings carefully.

"May 30, 1893, New York City," said Jiya and everyone looked at Lucy expectantly. It looked like her mind was working very quickly, but brow was furrowed in confusion.

"That date seems so significant," said Lucy, "but I can't think why? And why New York?" She looked at Jiya who immediately rolled her eyes back.

She tried not to imagine the look T.J. must be giving her right now. He was probably thinking of any sort of rational explanation he could.

Instead she focused on what she was seeing. "There's a school," she said. "Kids, all different ages, in the same class… they must be very well behaved, no one's talking… wait, no… they're using sign language."

"Several schools in the late 1800s were able to use American Sign Language to teach deaf children," said Lucy. "In New York, there were probably several of them."

"A deaf school," said Wyatt. "Shouldn't be too hard to narrow down once we get there."

"Get where?" said T.J., but no one was listening.

"Rufus should be back in the seat," Flynn said quickly.

"Why?" demanded Jiya. She'd gotten used to being their go-to pilot.

Flynn shrugged. "He can't stay in the bunker forever. Besides, don't you have wedding dresses to try on?"

Jiya wasn't buying that for a second- sure it was easy to get Flynn to feel included by asking his opinion on wedding stuff, but there was no way he cared enough about their wedding to factor it as who would or wouldn't pilot."

"I concur," said Connor. "Lucy, gentlemen… best get cracking."

Jiya watched her fiancé and the rest of the team rush into the machine ("What is that thing?" T.J. was saying). It roared to life with its familiar clanking and vanished before their eyes.

T.J. watched, expressionless. Then he looked back at Connor.

"And you took MY clothes into that thing?"

"Really?" asked Jiya. "That's the weirdest thing about this?"

.

.

1890s Brooklyn was very dirty, Emma discovered. She should've dressed down for this mission, but she thought it set a better precedent to appear well dressed. The address was for an office building in Flatrush, and her heels clacked loudly against the paved road as she approached.

She knocked five times in a quick pattern and a peep hole opened.

"Back again?" came a voice. She'd never been here before. But Rittenhouse had a way of detecting intruders.

"I'm persistent," replied Emma. It was the call sign she'd learned.

The peep hole closed, Emma heard the sound of a bolt unlatching, and the door swung open.

Rittenhouse had a few people stationed at this safehouse, but only one was present, a young blond man in his early-to-mid twenties.

"I have an assignment for you," she said. He nodded, unquestioning.

"There's a boy in Brooklyn. About fourteen years old, but six feet tall, with wide shoulders and a big head. He likes to terrorize the other children."

The young man nodded.

"He calls himself the Ox," Emma said. "Give him this," she tossed over a bag of silver dollars. "Tell him he'll get more if he comes back with you and accepts the job I have to offer."


	15. The Ox Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless

The Ox: Part 3

New York in 1893 was very much how Lucy expected it to be; overcrowded, unclean, and disproportionate. The iconic ever-changing skyline was still a pipe dream. The World Trade Center, Empire State Building, and Chrysler Building were still decades off. The current tallest building was the World Building, a twenty-story newspaper office said to inspire the Daily Planet in the early Superman comics.

The people of Manhattan were all dressed and groomed, but the stench of the air let the entire team know that daily bathing and deodorants were a thing of the future. Most of the people were white, although Lucy spotted a few darker skin tones scattered throughout the streets.

"Why do I suddenly feel safe walking around in my skin?" Rufus asked, apparently having noticed the same phenomenon.

"Most black New Yorkers at this time were born and raised here in the city," Lucy said, "either from established families from when New York was a free state or freed slaves seeking a new life in the industrial north. It wasn't until white immigrants used racism and anti-semitism to elevate their own status during the depression era that blacks were delegated to second class."

Flynn tut-tutted loudly. "Now, now, Lucy, you mustn't limit the blame just to Irish, Italians, and Poles. What about white women? Are you prepared to deny some of the outrage explicit in the suffragist movement that the right for a black man to vote was protected before that of a woman's?"

Lucy wasn't prepared to deny it, but she did keep her mouth shut. She idolized the women of the Seneca Falls Convention and felt much more comfortable white-washing (forgive the pun) the areas of history that mattered the most to her.

They found their way to the Lenox Library (the New York Public Library was still in the planning stages) and were able to find the only public school for deaf children in Manhattan- the Wright-Humason School for the Deaf, and it was located mere blocks away.

The school was a three-story building made of brick nestled between two taller buildings. It was The only thing that set it apart was a great garden that seemed to surround the portico and foyer.

"What's Rittenhouse wanna do here?" asked Rufus. "Give these kids cochlear implants?"

"Not exactly in line with their philosophies," said Flynn. "Let's go." He walked up to the door and knocked. After a moment, the door was answered by a young woman in an apron.

"Good morning," said Lucy. "If at all possible, we'd like to see the school and meet the principal."

"Principle headmaster, that is," said Flynn quickly. "My wife and I are relocating to Manhattan in the fall, and our son is deaf. We're very serious about his education."

"Yes, please come in," said the girl and she held the door wide to admit them. "Mr. Wright's in his office, right this way," she said.

The inside of the building was comfortable, less like the schools of the 21st century and more similar to some boarding schools Lucy had visited in her youth.

As she led them down the hall, the young woman talked brightly about the academic as well as the extracurricular coursework provided to the students. They read the classics and studied the first century of American history. They also had art classes, cooking classes, and- Lucy was surprised to discover- music classes. "We have a piano teacher who teaches the students to dance according to whether the pitches are higher or lower," said the woman. "They may not hear the sound of the piano itself, but they can tell when she plays the lower keys because of the vibrations."

"Well soundwaves travel through the human body just like any other solid surface," said Rufus, but he quickly shut his mouth after a quizzical look.

At that moment a door opened and a tall young woman stepped out, leading a small girl by the hand. "Ah, and here's one of our newest students," said the woman. "Helen and her assistant, Mrs. Sullivan."

The woman looked up at the sound of her name, but Lucy could tell by the out of focus eyes that Mrs. Sullivan couldn't see.

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Sullivan," said Flynn, taking the woman's offered hand and lightly grasping her fingers, as was custom in mannered American society at the time. Nothing too familiar. "My name is Mr. Flynn, this is my wife Lucy, and our manservants- Wyatt and Rufus."

Then the strangest thing happened- Lucy saw Mrs. Sullivan place her hand in the young girls hand and quickly moved her hand in a fast series of gestures across her palm. Then Lucy realized- the girl was both deaf AND blind. Then she gasped- wasn't her name…?

The girl repeated similar gestures into Mrs. Sullivan's hand and Mrs. Sullivan said, "Pleased to meet you. My name is Helen Keller, and this is my friend Anne Sullivan."

.

.

As Flynn and Lucy spoke to the headmaster, Rufus and Wyatt took a chance to look around the hallways, peering into classrooms whenever they could. Rufus noticed they were both attempting to move about quietly, even though most occupants of the building weren't bothered by noise.

"That was _the_ Helen Keller?" asked Rufus.

"I guess so," said Wyatt. "I wonder if Jessica's here. She loved the story. Ate up every Lifetime movie she could get her hands on."

Rufus wasn't sure what to say to that. The Jessica that Wyatt was talking about didn't' exist- she'd died a long time ago. Jess- the one that had spied on them and kidnapped Jiya- was someone completely different. She was different. An alternate. Rufus wasn't sure how many times he could explain to Wyatt that the timestreams made people different. Sometimes he thought he could see it in Jiya when he came back from a mission. However small the ripples were in the past, every once in a while, he'd notice just a little different in mannerisms or the inflections Jiya would put in certain words.

That wasn't to say that Jiya was a different person- rather he saw it as seeing multiple sides of her, like watching a flowchart of evolution detailing all the different ways Jiya could've turned out. If anything- it made Rufus love her even more, seeing so much of her. Sometimes he felt like he could understand how she could see all the future possibilities of him. It made their connection more special.

But again, there wasn't really a good way to explain this to Wyatt. And Rufus was uncomfortably aware that this was the first time they'd been alone in each other's presence since he'd been rescued.

"I know what you're thinking," Wyatt said, as he looked out a window at a courtyard below where a few younger children were playing marbles.

 _I doubt that,_ Rufus thought, but he didn't say anything.

"You're wondering if I can do what it takes to stop Rittenhouse," said Wyatt. "And I can. I get it. Emma's bad news. But… if there's a chance to save Jess from all this, I've gotta take it. You get it, don't you?"

Wyatt was looking at Rufus earnestly, hoping for confirmation of their alliance. Rufus raised his hands as if to indicate it didn't matter. But honestly, what could matter more? Jessica had put them all at risk, Wyatt included. Then Rufus noticed the wedding ring on Wyatt's finger and thought back to the previous evening (a hundred and twenty five years in the future) when he and Jiya had been looking at engraved wedding rings.

"I get that you love her," said Rufus. "And if you feel about her the same way that I feel about Jiya, then really there's no talking you out of or into anything."

Wyatt heaved a sigh of relief, apparently not realizing that Rufus had answered his question deliberately indirectly. Then something caught his eye.

"Shit!" he said and he pointed behind Rufus. Rufus turned around, but all he saw was a blackboard with notices and posters plastered to it.

"I guess corkboards aren't around yet?" asked Rufus.

"No, look at the poster!" said Wyatt and he pointed to it.

The poster was a color printing of a statuesque woman saluting a marvelous building as fireworks and an American flag soared overhead. In big block letters, the advertisement read _World's Fair, Grand Columbian Carnival, May 1, 1893 to October 30, 1893._

"We went to that," said Rufus, and he was about to say "So what?" before he remembered.

"May 30, 1893."

"We've been to this day before," said Wyatt.

"We landed shortly before midnight," said Rufus, checking his pocketwatch. "How much time do we have?"

"About twelve hours," said Wyatt, then Rufus grabbed his arm.

"Flynn landed about an hour before we did," he said. "He and Lucy both did."

Images flashed across Rufus's mind- horrific images of pilots before him returning in the machine with disfigured, lifeless bodies. That was what happened when you traveled when you weren't quantum locked. A person couldn't be in two places at once without the mods Jiya and Connor were working on.

That was the fate that was awaiting Lucy and Flynn if they didn't act fast.

.

.

A/N: So this episode (chapter? cluster of chapters?) is near to my heart, but it's also a little bit of a middle finger to the writers for a tasteless joke they made in Season 1. Helen Keller was at the World's Fair (in fact, she actually wasn't going to go to school in New York for an entire year, but I'm taking a little bit of license historically to set the stakes higher) and Rufus says something along the lines of "not that I think Flynn's going to kill Helen Keller" and my first thought was, "if he did, he'd set back disabled rights by a lot- it'd probably do a lot of damages to the timeline, no IDEA, no ADA, etc." and I actually tweeted that at the writers, but they never replied.

Still, people with disabilities are an important part of American history, and hopefully you'll see just how much in the next few chapters.


	16. The Ox Part 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless

The Ox: Part 4

For a few moments, Rufus and Wyatt weren't sure what to do. Part of them wanted to rush and interrupt the meeting, but they weren't sure what good that would do anyone. In the end, they decided to wait it out. Then Wyatt had an idea.

He stood beside the door and walked past it, taking nine very deliberate steps.

Rufus watched him repeat this a few times, before asking, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to send a message to Flynn," he said. "They should be able to hear the footsteps from in there. Three quick steps, three slow steps, three quick steps."

Rufus's jaw dropped. "That's an SOS."

"The most recognizable pattern in Morse code," said Wyatt.

Shortly after that, Flynn came out of the office. "What's the matter?" he demanded in a whisper.

"You and Lucy are in danger," said Rufus. "Get her out of there, now."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Flynn.

"Hey!" said Wyatt, raising his voice. "There is no time. We have to move."

Flynn glared daggers at Wyatt and Rufus wondered for a second if the two of them would come to blows. Flynn apparently thought better of it and returned into the office to extract Lucy.

Once they were all together, Rufus explained what the problem was.

"What will actually happen to us if there are two of us in the same place?" asked Flynn.

Rufus's heart was racing, but he tried to tell the story without choking up. "In the early days, when I was just a technician, still gearing up for my PE exams, there were four pilots- Anthony, Emma, and two others named Siana Chen, and Lou Kit- we called him Papa.

"Dr. Chen and Papa were experimenting on the new lifeboat- they took a mission to 1965 to witness the Selma march. The only problem was, Dr. Chen and Papa were both born before the march. According to Anthony, they landed in 1965 and before they could even exit the machine, both of them were doubled over in pain, screaming. Anthony took over the controls and brought them back, but when he landed back in 2016, they were both dead. More than that- their bodies were disfigured- like cartoon skeletons that fell apart and randomly put back together."

Rufus fought back the wave he nausea. He was there- he remembered extracting Papa from the harnesses and seat, both arms sticking out at odd angles from the clavicle. There had been a sickening snap which they later realized was a tooth catching on the seat from underneath Papa's fingernail.

Flynn and Lucy both paled.

"We have about eight hours," said Flynn, checking his watch.

"What are you talking about?" asked Rufus, then his jaw dropped. "No way- we're getting the hell out of here."

"We have to finish the mission," said Lucy. Classes were ending and students started walking around them in the hall, but it was oddly muffled. Some of the students were signing, but very few were actually talking.

"Look," said Lucy, "if Rittenhouse is targeting Helen Keller, it could devastate the advances made for the disabled community in America."

"What are you talking about?" asked Rufus.

"Helen Keller may be a sweet little girl right now," said Lucy, "but she grows up to revolutionize the treatment of people with disabilities. Without her, we probably don't have government social programs, special education in the schools, equal access in public buildings…"

"So what, Rittenhouse wants to park their cars in the blue spaces?" asked Rufus.

"No, they probably want to euthanize anyone who doesn't fit into their new world order," said Flynn. "Francis Galton was a Rittenhouse scientist who theorized that society would be healthier if bloodlines with 'undesirable' traits were extinguished. Only the strongest and healthiest would be alive to pass on their genes."

Rufus gulped. "So Emma wants to turn American children into little Khan Noonien Singhs. Great."

"Well then we need to find Emma fast, because if we don't, Lucy and Flynn are dead," said Wyatt. "Let's find Helen Keller."

.

.

They found her in a classroom on the second building, attending an oratory class. The teacher, an elderly woman, was teaching lip reading. Helen's fingers were on Anne Sullivan's lips as Anne moved her mouth and Wyatt was impressed to see Helen's voice matching Anne's very closely. The four of them stood outside the door, waiting for what- they weren't sure.

Flynn and Rufus were on the other side of the hall and Wyatt took a moment to catch up to Lucy.

"Listen," he said, "I was just telling Rufus earlier… Jess _loved_ Helen Keller. I mean, she had one of her quotes cross-stitched on a throw. I know she wouldn't believe in what Emma's doing."

"Wyatt," said Lucy quickly, and loudly enough that Flynn and Rufus actually looked over.

"Look, Jess is dead," said Lucy. "The woman working for Rittenhouse right now- you've never known her. Rittenhouse had no influence on her until they went back to save her brother's life, and to presumably save yours."

Wyatt blinked. Yes, he understood that the timelines were different, but that didn't mean that Jessica was a completely different person. Your personality, your sense of self- that couldn't change that much, could it?

"No, you don't get it," said Wyatt. "Jessica isn't like that…"

"Except she is," snapped Lucy. She brought an impatient hand to her eye, then looked up again and started explaining.

"Look at it this way," she said. "Before we jumped to the Hindenburg, my mom was sick. She married my father, had Amy, smoked cigarettes, and went into hospice care. My father- Henry Wallace Preston- had an influence on her. She didn't teach me any of Rittenhouse's ideologies, probably because of dad. She raised Amy and me away from all that.

"But in this version of history, where Henry Wallace never met my mother, Rittenhouse kept its hold on her- tried to use her historical knowledge against American, rather than for it. It's the same with Jessica- Rittenhouse corrupted her like a bad apple. They may look the same and act the same, but the Jessica you married would never have done this to you, but this Jessica did. So you need to stop."

Wyatt blinked, surprised at Lucy's brashness.

Before he had time to respond, there was the sound of glass breaking from inside the classroom.

"Emma!" shouted Wyatt, drawing his pistol and running to the room. Flynn did the same. They kicked open the door in time to hear gunshots. There was a man- well over six feet tall with a head almost the size of a watermelon pointing a gun at Helen. Not daring to fire his weapon over the heads of the children, Wyatt leapt over the desks and elbowed the man hard in the neck. Next he gripped the barrel of the gun- a six-shooter- and twisted the man's hand. The man would've shouted in pain if he'd been able to, but Wyatt had cut off his voice.

Another blow to the head rendered the giant man unconscious and he collapsed to the floor. "Lucy?" Wyatt asked.

Lucy was comforting a screaming Helen Keller who was reaching out to her side, apparently looking for Anne.

Anne Sullivan was dead. Blood was pooling out from under her on the hardwood floor. It looked like she'd thrown herself in front of Helen to keep the gunman from firing.

"Bring her!" Wyatt shouted, pointing at Helen, then "Help me," to Flynn. The two of them lugged the unconscious giant up past the shaken and crying children. Rufus lifted Helen into his arms and she started screaming louder than ever.

"Wait," said the woman, suddenly regaining her voice. "You can't just take her!"

"He was after her," said Rufus. "We're saving her life. You can thank us later."

They carried the man and Helen downstairs past the startled maid. Lucy flagged a passing buggy- a taxi, she claimed. After Flynn unceremoniously dragged the driver from the seat and helped force the giant man into buggy, he took the reins. Wyatt climbed in after Rufus and closed the door.

As soon as they were inside and moving, Wyatt grabbed Helen's hand and signed quickly- _Calm down, you're safe._

"You know sign?" asked Rufus, watching.

"Yeah," said Wyatt. "My best friend in high school was mute." He continued signing. _I'm Wyatt. I'm a policeman. Someone came to hurt you._

Helen finally seemed to calm down a little, although she was breathing heavily. Then she signed back. _Where's Anne?_

Wyatt squeezed her hand gently before signing. _D-E-A-D._

Helen's girlish face turned to shock and she dissolved into tears and wails. Wyatt felt for her- Anne was the only person Helen could talk to. Without her, Helen must've felt cut off from the world. "I'm sorry," Wyatt said, as he signed it. "I'm so sorry."

.

.

True to Connor's wishes, Jiya was taking full advantage of bringing on T.J. She spent most of the day in her visions, trying to see future missions.

"I see Wyatt in a G.I. uniform," said Jiya. "Maybe World War II?"

"Uh. How original," said T.J., but he started scribbling designs.

If Jiya's eyes weren't already rolled back, she would've done so just for that comment.

"I see New York City in the sixties," she went on then she cocked her head in surprise. "In fact.. you're there?"

"What?" said T.J. "Why would I be there?"

"I don't know," said Jiya. "But you are."

"We don't need sixties clothes," said Connor. "We'll just wear jeans and t-shirts. What else?"

"I see a boat," said Jiya, "Wyatt and Flynn and rowing it. They're both wearing Revolutionary War uniforms."

"Washington crossing the Delaware, maybe?" said T.J. He huffed an aggravated sigh. "I don't know how you can expect me to design this many clothes this quickly.

"There's something weird about the boat they're rowing, though," said Jiya. "It looks modern? I can't explain it. But after that, it looks like late 19th early 20th century fancy clothes? Lucy looks like she did when she dressed up for 1915 last week. And I see Rufus in cowboy clothes and Wyatt with a coonskin cap."

Jiya opened her eyes. Her sinuses were starting to ache from the visions. She'd gotten better at looking into personal futures, but there was still a lot to learn from this new gift. It was easier to look at the past.

"T.J., I have one last design," said Connor. "Consider this my wedding present. But would you design Jiya's dress?"

T.J. swooned dramatically. "Are you kidding? I've been looking for an excuse to design a wedding dress for years. I even have my own folded up in my breast pocket and _no you may not see it._ " He smiled. "Rule one- it must have pockets."

Jiya gasped. "Pockets!"

"Yes!" said T.J., with passion. "All of my ladies wear has pockets- it's about justice!"

"No, not that, although I agree," said Jiya. "Mason… we've been going about the Hermione modification the wrong way. It's not about redirecting the quantum lock- it's about containing it."

Mason blinked. "A pocket?"

"Yes," said Jiya. Now that she'd had the idea, she was able to see it- literally see it in her visions. The Lifeboat flared- it's rings starting creating density around the machine, enough to curve temporal energy. But now there was a cavity in the wall of the machine between the rings- and the radiation was all diverted in there.

And there she saw it- a gleaming silver boat scooting across the floor as the Lifeboat jumped and the boat disappeared before her very eyes.

"Jiya?" asked Connor.

"I think my visions are developing," she said. "And I think we need to start building a boat."


	17. The Ox Part 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

The Ox: Part 5

Flynn abandoned the stolen cab and it's bewildered horse near a ferry and they smuggled the man and Helen Keller across the East River by ferry.

"Where are we?" Rufus asked, looking around the dingy buildings.

"Fulton Landing," said Lucy. "In the 1890s, this was in industrial district of New York. In another century, this'll be a yuppie neighborhood."

"Talk about gentrification," said Rufus eyeing a cat picking at a dead fish in the road.

Flynn and Wyatt carried the gigantic man into an abandoned slaughterhouse and positioned him onto a chair. Wyatt watched as Flynn swatted the man's face a few times, rousing him into consciousness.

Looking around, Wyatt signed into Helen's hand. _We're in Brooklyn. We should be safe here._

She didn't reply.

"Hey, wake up," Flynn said. Wyatt turned to see the man's eyes flutter open. "What's your name?" asked Flynn.

"What's it to ya?" asked the man and Wyatt rolled his eyes. Freaking New Yorkers.

"What does Rittenhouse want with Helen Keller?" asked Lucy, standing away from them.

"What's a Written House?" asked the man.

Without warning, Flynn slapped the man across the face. "Who told you to kill that little girl?" he demanded.

"I ain't talkin'!" the man growled back, and he spat out blood at Flynn's face. Lucy quickly wiped it away with a handkerchief.

"Great," Flynn said, scowling at the bloody handkerchief. "Now I've got syphilis." He turned to the others.

"Give me twenty minutes alone with this guy, I'll get him to talk."

Wyatt looked to Lucy, but she didn't meet his eye. There was a coldness to her voice, almost as chilling as the thought of her dying horrendously in a matter of hours. "Do it."

And she led the way out of the room.

Once outside, Wyatt sat with Helen and they had a silent but slow conversation.

 _What exactly happened at the school?_ Helen asked.

Wyatt explained about Rittenhouse, telling her how they were looking to keep deaf and blind people under their boot.

Tears streamed down Helen's face. _Do we not suffer enough?_ she asked.

 _Don't be discouraged,_ Wyatt told her. _Ann helped you find your voice. Now she's gone, but are you going to let her die in vain? I won't lie, it will be hard. But you are smart, insightful, and most importantly, you are driven. You can still accomplish so much._

At that moment, Flynn reappeared, a little blood on his hands.

"His name's Tomasso Petto," Flynn told them. "Get this- he's fifteen years old!" Wyatt let Helen touch his mouth and read his lips with her fingers. He passed along everything that was said.

"I know him," Lucy said. "Petto worked for one of the biggest crime families in New York. He was called the Ox- responsible for dozens of murders."

"He's only fifteen?" asked Rufus. "He's about eight feet tall!"

"Obviously he started young," said Lucy, grimly. "1890s New York didn't have a lot of opportunities for young immigrants."

If Helen seemed confused by the way Lucy spoke, she didn't say anything.

"He gave us the address," said Flynn. "It's in Flatrush, not far from here."

"I wanna go," came a voice and everyone- including Wyatt- was shocked to hear Helen's voice. Her voice sounded deep, and the inflections were different than they were used to, but the words themselves were clear. "I wanna face these Rittenhouse people myself."

.

.

The office building sat on a dirty street, with brick steps leading up to an entrance covered by a green foyer. The script writing on the side read Davis and Kripke Esq.

They were across the street in a dingy alleyway waiting for Flynn to return from scoping out the building. Rufus checked his watch anxiously. They had about three hours.

"Do you realize how close we're cutting it?" he whispered to Lucy. "We need to get Emma now and get back to the Lifeboat as soon as humanly possible."

"Rufus, it'll be fine," said Lucy. "I saw my future self, remember? I know I survive this mission."

"Did you see future Flynn?" Rufus reminded her. She was being way too callous about her very imminent dismemberment.

"We get Emma, we get back to the Lifeboat. We're fine," said Lucy.

Flynn returned. "Pretty loose security for Rittenhouse," he said. "It can't be their New York base- it must be an outpost of some sort. Let's go. And Wyatt, watch the girl."

"The girl has a name," Helen said- Wyatt had been translating for her again. He couldn't help but chuckle at Flynn's red face.

"Let's go," Lucy said.

Flynn led them across the street and around the side of the office. He kicked open a back door and charged in. Two Rittenhouse thugs, taken off guard reached for the weapons but never made it before Flynn put two bullets in each of them.

They made their way through the office to a single young man sitting behind a reception desk, his hands raised above his head.

"Where's Emma Whitmore?" Flynn demanded.

"I'll never tell!" the young man said, his voice shaking.

 _BLAM!_

Flynn pulled the trigger, there was a spurt of blood, and the man collapsed, howling in pain.

"Oh, relax," said Flynn. "It's just a through and through." The man was holding his leg and crying.

"Emma Whitmore," Lucy repeated. "Where is she?"

"She left hours ago," said the man. "She succeeded in her mission already."

"I'm still alive," Helen corrected.

The man blinked at her. "She can talk?"

Wyatt translated. "Yes, I can talk," said Helen.

"You weren't the target you dumb, deaf brat," said the man. "Your tutor was. Without her, you're nothing."

The room was quiet for a moment as everyone steamed at the man's comments.

"We'll see," said Helen and she walked out of the room alone, her feet and hands guiding her to the exit.

Rufus checked his watch again. "Lucy," he said urgently. "We have to go now!"

"Alright," said Lucy. She started to follow Helen out but before she left, she looked at Flynn and said, "Burn it."

"With pleasure," Flynn said.

.

.

They dropped Helen off at the school. Lucy watched as Wyatt and her signed their goodbyes. She thought she recognized the sign for "thank you", but that was about the extent of her knowledge. She remembered that Wyatt had said he spoke four languages- she never would've though sign was one of them.

Helen waved at them- how'd she learn that? Lucy wondered- and walked back into the school.

"Do you really think she'll be able to do everything she did before?" asked Rufus.

Lucy wasn't sure. "Helen Keller was an amazing woman, of that I'm sure. But without Ann Sullivan, I really don't know."

"She'll make it," said Wyatt. "Some people are built for adversity."

"I hate to break up the sentiment, but we really need to go!" said Flynn. "I'd rather not have my body scrambled by a paradox, if it's all the same to you."

They raced their cab back to the outskirts of the city. Lucy was starting to feel some of the pressure, but oddly enough she wasn't scared. Why wasn't she more scared?

They saw the Lifeboat in the distance and Flynn urged the horses on faster.

"Any idea what time you landed?" asked Rufus.

Lucy shook her head. She knew it was soon.

They reached the site and Rufus leapt out, rushing to get the Lifeboat up and running.

Lucy started to step out and suddenly a pain gripped at her midsection like nothing she'd ever experienced.

She doubled over. The pain was intense- sharp and burning and nauseating all at once. She gasped for breath but it felt like her lungs had suddenly imploded on themselves. Out of the corner of her eye, she registered that Flynn had fallen from the driver's seat and was writhing in the grass beside her.

She heard Rufus and Wyatt shouting, but the words were meaningless. The pain was growing sharper and sharper with every passing second.

She felt herself being lifted fireman style and hauled quickly into the Lifeboat.

She heard the machine clanking to life as her vision dulled. Then suddenly, the pain was gone and she slipped out of consciousness.

.

.

A/N: So getting this fic completed by December is a pipedream now. Who else is excited for the finale tonight?

My take on the Helen Keller story is inspired by a presentation I saw called "Presuming Competence." Most of the films and literature surrounding Helen Keller aren't actually about her, but focus more on Ann Sullivan (*ahem*MiracleWorker*ahem*). She was incredible, don't get me wrong, but disabled people's accomplishments belong to them, not the people who help them. When you give people the opportunity to prove themselves, you see how much they can accomplish.


	18. The Ox Part 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless

The Ox: Part 6

 _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

The snow beneath his feet made the same sound with each step, somehow louder than the wind howling in his ears.

Garcia was dying. Of that, he was sure. His insides were on fire, like someone had force fed him a glowing hot coal. It was a harsh contrast to the cold snowstorm around him.

His house was just a bit further. Just a bit further.

He couldn't support his own weight anymore- he collapsed in the snow. The pain in his gut somehow grew harder and he cried out in pain.

Voices were calling out from behind him. Sometimes they sounded like Lucy, sometimes they sounded like Rufus. Sometimes they weren't recognizable at all. He ignored them. They were trying to call him away from his family.

His frostbitten fingers clawed at the icy ground, pulling his body toward the house, inch by inch. Somehow he'd lost his clothes and the flesh on his chest and legs tore away. Pieces of him were falling away and falling apart. He would never make it to the house.

He would never see his family again.

Flynn awoke drenched in a cold sweat. The pain was gone. The snow was gone. He was in one piece, safe in his bed at the bunker.

The door opened, and for a second Flynn was afraid it was Lucy. But it was Jiya, carrying a bowl of soup.

"Hey, you're up," she said. "I got cucumber soup. I didn't know when you would wake, so I thought cucumber would at least be just as good cold."

Flynn nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he said thanks. He accepted the bowl and set it at his bedside table.

"Lucy's okay. Wyatt and Rufus got you both home safely," said Jiya. "We think Emma picked that day on purpose, to try to trap you both."

Flynn nodded again. _Makes sense._

"It won't happen again," she said. "I've already started working on the next upgrade for the Lifeboat. I think we'll be able to get the Hermione Modification soon."

She left the room and Flynn.

He was alone with his thoughts and his soup.

He reached into the desk drawer beside him and pulled out the little slip of paper. _Don't let Jiya meet Tesla._

Flynn had put so much thought into _what_ Prime Wyatt's message was that he'd never paid much attention to whether or not he should actually follow it. Anything that bothered Wyatt was alright in Flynn's book. But, whatever Wyatt's flaws, Flynn knew him well enough to understand motives. That was the job at the NSA- using your opponent's motives and resources to predict their actions. Wyatt was a dutiful soldier on a mission to stop the Time War. He was also a redemptive husband, trying to save his wife from herself. If Jiya meeting Tesla started the Time War, Flynn should do it. But if Jiya meeting Tesla saved Jess…

Flynn tore up the piece of paper.

.

.

The Adventure Continues on Timeless: The Lifeboat gets an upgrade. The Time Team takes to the seas and meets a familiar face. Jessica struggles with prenatal vitamins, pregnancy acne, and presidential duties.

A/N: So the Timeless finale actually inspired me to change the ending for this episode. I was originally gonna have more Rufus and Jiya engagement fluff, but there'll be plenty of time for that later. I thought the sendoff for Flynn was so well done. In a way, he was the only one who really got his family back, or at least he was the closest out of the main cast. His finale was so much more rewarding than the others. He saved Rufus AND helped bring down Rittenhouse. And maybe he didn't get a happy ending, but I was happy with his ending, if that makes sense.

Give me your thoughts- and also, review!


	19. The Sinking of PT-109 Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless

A/N: Trigger warning- Depression, suicidal thoughts

The Sinking of PT-109: Part 1

August 1, 1943

Rabaul, New Britain, Papau New Guinea

They were making another damned supply run tonight. Captain Toyama was reviewing the ship's manifest from his office. It was getting dark soon, then it would be safe to leave their little bay at Rabaul.

Toyama knew he ought to be grateful- he was serving his emperor in the Solomon Islands, one of the most vital fronts since the losses at Midway and Guadalcanal. Still, it was disappointing being in command aboard a 2,000 ton Imperial Navy Destroyer and not actually destroying much.

There was a knock on the office door. It was his ensign, Kagawa Tamesada. "Captain," he said, "there's an envoy from the Emperor. An Allied spy."

Captain Toyama rose to his feet as the woman entered, dressed in an imperial uniform. She was clearly American from her pale skin to her bright red hair. This was unbecoming- outside of nurses and prostitutes, women had no place in the Imperial Forces.

"What is your business here?" Toyama demanded.

"You and I have been reassigned," the woman said in perfect Japanese, passing over a folder of documents. Toyama seized them and scanned them. They identified her as Hillary Rodham, an American Naval Intelligence officer apparently turned traitor, probably seeking money, land, and titles from the Emperor. "I've cracked the codes you've been intercepting. The language is Navajo." He looked up at her. Navajo? His confusion must have been evident, because she elaborated "Native American."

So the Americans were employing savages to fight with them now? Bastards.

"I have some intelligence about a Patrol Torpedo Division that's been giving you trouble in your missions," she said. "You and I are taking command of the _Amagiri_ tonight."

A chance to fight back? It was just the opportunity Toyama had been hoping for.

.

.

Lucy was lying in her bed wide awake. She spent most of her time in bed not sleeping these days.

 _I almost died._

The thought should have filled her with dread. She had felt the pain. It was as bad as anything she'd ever felt. It felt as if her cells were on fire accompanied by a strange sort of vertigo- like falling in the wrong direction.

She obviously hadn't liked the pain, but if she were being truly honest, she resented that she had survived it.

 _You need to talk to someone._

A little voice in her head (that sounded a lot like Amy) had been pestering her the past three days. But who was there to talk to? Wyatt? She and Wyatt had said all they needed to say to each other. Even after everything, he was still clinging to his dead wife. And, by extension, her fascistic counterpart.

She had thought about talking to Jiya, but when Jiya wasn't working on the Lifeboat, she was planning her wedding with Rufus. The two of them were so happy- Lucy didn't think she could ruin that for them.

There was always Flynn and Agent Christopher, but they were so mission-focused. While Lucy dawdled waiting for the paradox to tear her apart, Flynn had risked the same to stop Emma. And they barely saw Agent Christopher anymore.

 _Those are just excuses._

"Shut up, Amy," Lucy said aloud.

The room was quiet after that.

No one was there to talk to. No one cared.

 _Good,_ Lucy thought, stubbornly.

She sat in her bed for another twenty minutes. Or maybe it was an hour. Her stomach growled, but she didn't move.

The alarms sounded. Lucy stood up at once, almost as if she had been waiting for it.

She was right behind Rufus and Jiya as they raced into the control center and to their seats at the console.

"Where'd they go?" came Wyatt's voice. He came in, followed immediately by Flynn and Mason. T.J. was last, wearing a silk bathrobe and shower shoes. "Do I need to be here for this?"

"Time travel not impressive enough for a fashion designer?" asked Flynn.

T.J. didn't answer.

Rufus ignored all of this. "Solomon Islands, August 1, 1943," he called out.

"That's the Pacific Theater, World War 2," said Wyatt.

"Now I know why I saw you all in WWII uniforms," said Jiya. "T.J., did you finish with them?"

"Uninspired," said T.J. "Hardly my best work. But yes."

"Aren't we forgetting something?" said Flynn and everyone looked to him. "What, are we just gonna land the Lifeboat on one of hundreds of little islands, hoping it's the one we can use?"

"Flynn's right," said Wyatt, and for once it didn't seem like he hated to admit it. "We can't just expect to commandeer a Japanese or an American ship."

Jiya and Connor glanced at each other and smiled. "Let us worry about that," he said. "You all should get changed."

An hour later, standing in her gray WAVES Summer uniform, Lucy found out what Jiya and Connor had been working on. Jiya ripped the tarp off dramatically to reveal a small, metal speedboat. It didn't look very seaworthy- it was barely ten feet long, seated three aside from the helm, and it didn't even look like there was room to store much of anything else.

"The Mason Industries Seaskiff," said Connor. "Freshwater and saltwater compatible, capable of up to 60 knots."

"And completely emission free," said Jiya. "It runs on temporal energy. One jump on the Lifeboat can charge it for 72 hours."

"Where's it fit?" asked Wyatt. Lucy couldn't help but think the same thing. The skiff was small, but it was absurd to think the Lifeboat could carry.

"That's the best part," said Jiya. "You don't stow it. You tow it!"

She led them around to the Lifeboat. Lucy had never paid much attention to its backside before, but between the two chains where there had originally been solid surface, there was now a perfectly rounded dent. "What's that do?" asked Flynn.

"It creates a pocket during jumps," said Jiya. "Anything we put directly behind it comes along."

Connor was already rolling the skiff toward the Lifeboat. "Are we ready? Emma's hours ahead of us by now."

Lucy braced herself.

 _Last chance,_ she thought to herself. _What do you think, Ames? Tell them I wanna die or keep it to myself right before a mission in the middle of a war?_

But Amy's voice said nothing.


	20. The Sinking of PT-109 Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

The Sinking of PT-109: Part 2

The skiff was operating well, thought Jiya. She was at the controls, cutting through the green South Pacific water. The skiff left a bioluminescent trail in its wake- Flynn explained that it was sea life native to the region.

"Makes us a clear and easy target for planes," said Wyatt, over the whine of the motor. "In fact, some Naval airmen referred to it as an bright arrow pointed right up the enemy's ass."

"Or an ally's," said Flynn.

"In any case, this boat is way too small to be picked up on radar or to be hit by planes," said Jiya. "I think we're safe."

Lucy was the only one not participating in the conversation. Jiya was at the helm and Lucy was seated at the very front of the boat, her legs tucked under her in the sea, the wind blowing her hair. She looked comfortable on a boat, Jiya thought.

"Why do we think Rittenhouse is here?" Jiya called up to her, but it was actually Wyatt who answered.

"The Solomon Islands held a garrison of about a thousand Japanese soldiers. We're at the very edge of the Pacific Theater. They lost Guadalcanal and their airpower's dwindled to less than a hundred planes."

"What's keeping the Allies from an invasion?" asked Jiya.

"The technology," said Wyatt. "Most of the forces here are Patrol Torpedo squadrons. The Department of War shelled out money for dozens of the things to be made as quickly as possible after Pearl Harbor, and promoted them as the David to the Japanese Destroyers' Goliath."

Wyatt smirked. "Only problem is, they stink. In the entire war, there were only three confirmed ships sunk by Patrol Torpedoes and one of them was a friendly fire. They can't get close enough to attack the Destroyers without getting in range of their guns, and the torpedoes themselves didn't function half the time. Sometimes, they would even ignite in the boats and either blow the ship to hell or make a fire bright enough for the enemy to see you at night."

"This is all very interesting," said Flynn. "But that doesn't answer the question- what is Rittenhouse doing here?"

"My guess, help the Japanese," said Wyatt. "Right now, both sides are too nervous to make much of a move. Neither realize that the enemy's just as in bad shape as they are. If Emma tells the Japanese how flimsy the Allies hold on the Solomon's are, the Japanese may step up their attacks- maybe even take back Guadalcanal. But there's a US PT boat base on the island southeast of here. There would be the best place for us to start."

Jiya followed his bearings until the island came into sight. It looked like a tropical paradise you might see in a travel brochure. There was an inviting red-brown mountain pointed to the sky surrounded by lush, green foliage. Once they got closer, they saw the beaches were white sand and the water a crystal clear blue.

"Hardly what you'd expect from a war zone," said Jiya. Then her eyes flashed up and she saw an imminent attack. Men leaping into foxholes, a plane flying so close to the ground, she could see the pilot's face. She slammed the boat to a halt.

"What's the matter?" Flynn asked, but his question was answered for him.

Above them was the unmistakable sound of warplanes flying low. They swooped over the island base so low Jiya thought they might crash into the mountain. The guns were blaring, echoing over the water even at this distance. Jiya could see men looking like ants running out of tents and buildings diving for cover.

As they watched, the harbor started to churn as boats scattered, attempting to flee the airborne assault. One plane divebombed and hit a boat and it exploded in a blast of fire and smoke. Jiya gasped- was that an accident or a kamikaze attack?

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

"One pass raid," explained Wyatt. "Get in, hit your target, get out.

"And you're sure they're gone?" asked Flynn.

"Jiya?" Wyatt asked.

Jiya closed her eyes and focused. The Japanese planes were landing on a carrier, far north of here. "The island's safe," she said.

They approached the harbor, Flynn holding up a US flag as identifier. In all the commotion, they managed to slip in unmolested.

"Let's find the Base Commander," said Wyatt, tying the skiff off.

The four of them walked down the dock before a man leapt onto the boat and stopped them.

"Hold it," he said in a shaky voice.

There was something about him, Jiya thought she recognized, but couldn't quite place it.

"Problem, sailor?" asked Wyatt. "Don't you know to salute an officer?"

"I know you're no officer," the man said, his voice shaking. It was then that Jiya realized his hand was on his gun holster.

Wyatt's eyes flashed dangerously. The boy was so young- he looked Jiya's age. She hoped Wyatt wouldn't do anything rash. Or Flynn.

She cast a glance at Flynn, who was looking murderous at the delay. Then surprisingly, Lucy, who seemed to be watching the boy with a kind of interest.

"Listen, son," said Wyatt. "There's obviously been some kind of misunderstanding. Why don't you take us to your c.o. and we'll clear this up."

The boy looked from Wyatt to Jiya and suddenly, she felt it. Something stirred inside her that she couldn't explain. The last time she felt it had been weeks earlier when her future self had visited.

Jiya gasped.

"You have it too," she said. It wasn't a question. He looked at her, his eyes wide with fear.

"Let me help you," she said. She stepped around Wyatt and held out her hand. The boy looked terrified, but he reached out, mirroring her. The moment their hands touched, Jiya felt their connection ascend into something greater. She saw him as a child, running around in a hot southern town. She saw him standing in a factory, showing his son around the place he worked. She saw him climbing into a ship, being sent to a war he wouldn't come back from. She saw him standing on the stern of a boat as it blew apart around him.

Somehow, this young sailor had premonitions too.

"You're right, we're not who we say we are," said Jiya, and she wondered what he had seen or thought of the flashes he saw of her life. "But we are here to help."

"I know you are," came a voice

A young attractive man approached them, a wry smile on his face. "At ease, Kirksey. These guys are friends of mine."

Jiya's jaw dropped. The last time she'd seen his face, he was a teenager. He still had a young look about him, but he was taller, more manly and defined, but without losing a bit of his boyish charm.

"I really hoped I wouldn't have to see you again," said Jack, offering a salute. Wyatt seemed too stunned to respond at first, then quickly remembered and saluted Jack back.

"President Kennedy."

.

.

A/N: Jack's back! You didn't think I WOULDN'T use Kennedy again, do you? That kid actor was golden! If it were me, I'd have made him a series regular!

A lot of the information I got for these chapters came from the book "PT 109: An American Epic of War, Survival, and the Destiny of John F. Kennedy" by William Doyle. Very good read, if you're interested and I apologize to Mr. Doyle as I'm about to completely change the narrative of everything that happened in the battle.


	21. The Sinking of PT-109 Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless.

The Sinking of PT-109: Part 3

Jessica shook the clear plastic bottle into her hand and a couple of white pills fell out. She popped them into her mouth and swallowed them with her bottled water. She took a breath and looked at her face in the mirror.

She looked like she was back in high school. The maternity books never warned her about acne. Growling to herself, she started applying liberal amounts of concealer.

Once her war paint was on, she called the agent in. His name was Glass, and his family had been with Rittenhouse for about twenty years now. Not a legacy- but influential in the print media. He used to teach journalism at one of the state schools back when online classes were first being offered. He was able to bring a lot of journalists over to their side. Now he was the unofficial director of all Rittenhouse media, after the last one had been brought down by Lucy and Flynn.

"What's the update?" she asked.

"The story of our exposure has been more or less forgotten. We were able to keep the public interest pretty low. No one except maybe Cahill is a name anyone remembers anymore. Rittenhouse is effectively back in the shadows."

"That's good news," Jessica said. Her stomach rumbled, annoyingly. She was craving something sweet and sour, and her first thought was of a margarita. How unfair was that? That a pregnancy could make her crave alcohol.

"Any hang-ups with some of our people?"

"There's a news producer at a local Milwaukee cable station," said Glass, handing over a file. "There's a rumor that she wants out. Unusual internet activity. Researching private schools out of the country. Cashing in on some savings bonds. On their own, it doesn't mean anything, but does look like the first steps someone would take if they were looking to get out."

Jessica huffed. "What can we do about it?"

"She can be persuaded. She's got kids."

Jessica's stomach lurched. In the file, there was a photo of a little boy being dropped off at an elementary school.

"Do you know her personally?" Jess asked, trying to sound presidential.

"She was a student, oh… fifteen years ago?"

"Did she perform better when she got discipline or praise?"

Glass looked like he was thinking a moment. "Praise," he decided.

Jessica mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "Then let's try the carrot before we try the stick, okay?"

"You're the boss," said Glass.

"That's an odd way of saying 'Yes, madam President'," said Jess. It came out harsher than intended. She gave a lame smile to try to make it sound like she was joking.

Glass looked nervous, like he hadn't caught the joke. "Yes, of course, madam President," he chuckled.

"I'm kidding," she said dismissively. "Is that everything?"

"Yes, madam President," said Glass. He collected the file and stood up. He looked relieved to be dismissed. Not because he was scared- more like the meeting was a chore he was glad to be done with.

She watched him go, her mind whirling. She wished she had the kind of demanding presence that Emma did. Not for the first time, she wondered why Emma had decided she should be president.

.

Jack and Kirksey led them to the command tent. "His name's Commander Warfield," Jack was telling them. "He's a real hardass."

"Are we gonna be allowed in?" asked Jiya.

"Anyone asks, I'll tell 'em you're with me," Jack said. "Look, I remember what happened the last time I saw you guys. If you're here, that means I get you anywhere you need to be."

"This is like having our own sleeper agent for once," Flynn chided.

"A what?" asked Jack.

"It means a spy who's been put in place years in advance of an operation," said Wyatt. "The term doesn't really exist yet, but 'sleepers' are pretty common in World War II. Which is what we're in now," he added, with a look at Jack.

"I remember," Jack said.

Lucy caught up to Wyatt and tugged on his sleeve. "Rittenhouse is here for him," she said. "Again."

"Yeah, I figured," said Wyatt. "We just gotta keep him alive. Shouldn't be too hard."

"No, you don't understand," said Lucy. "This is the night that Kennedy becomes a war hero. His patrol boat sinks and he rescues almost his entire crew. The story gets told over and over again- they even make a movie about it. It's what propels him to become a Senator- it's why there's a President Kennedy!"

Flynn was listening in. "So not only does Kennedy need to survive but.."

"He needs to save the day," said Lucy.

They reached the command tent. Lucy's mind was whirring. Engineering a heroic action was going to be almost impossible in a war zone. And that's without Emma and Rittenhouse tipping the Japanese off to the PT boat's weaknesses she thought to herself.

The commander- Warfield- droned on about the battle plan, but Lucy couldn't follow all the tactical and military jargon they were using. The sailors listening were all looking at the maps and nodding along.

"Commander," said Wyatt, breaking Lucy's train of thought. "You expect these boats to fire on Japanese destroyers from a distance, on choppy water, in the dark? Do you know what the odds of that are?"

"Like trying to hit a womp rat?" Jiya chided quietly.

Warfield blinked. "And just who are you, son?"

"Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan, US Army," said Wyatt.

"Uh-huh," said Warfield. "Well I don't know how you army boys do it, but this is a Naval operation. Our boats will have radar."

"Four of your boats have radar," corrected Wyatt. "The rest are blind. Especially if they're under radio silence and running without lights."

"It's called the element of surprise."

"Oh yeah, I call it bull-"

"Enough!" snapped Warfield. "Lieutenant Kennedy, is this man with you?"

Jack smirked. "Yeah, the War Department sent him over to make sure I didn't crash any more boats, sir."

Several of the men snickered, like they were enjoying an inside joke.

"Well, keep his mouth shut for him," said Warfield. He looked around. "All hands, better get to it."

The men all rose and filed out of the tent.

"That man's an idiot," said Wyatt.

"Yeah, tell us something we don't know," said Jack. "So what happens? I mean- what do you know to happen?"

"The operation fails," said Lucy. "The destroyers make their rendezvous with the Japanese garrison and return safely. None of your boats make any hits, and your boat gets rammed."

"Rammed?" asked Jack.

"That's how it happens," said Kirksey, looking scared and wide-eyed. "Isn't it?"

He looked from Jiya to Lucy, but Lucy had no clue what he was talking about.

"That won't happen now," said Flynn. "If I was Rittenhouse and I had knowledge of the battle beforehand, I'd turn the ambush around. If you know you're walking into a trap, you set it off and trap the trapper."

"So what do we do if we lose the element of surprise?" asked Jiya.

"We call off the mission," said Wyatt. "So how do we convince Warfield?"

"Even if he would listen, we can't abort," said Lucy. "Jack needs to make a name for himself in this battle. It's the only way to keep history on track."

Jack looked stunned. "What are you talking about?"

Wyatt didn't acknowledge him. "We need to keep him alive."

"That's not enough!" argued Lucy. "Just staying alive isn't good enough!"

"Hey!" said Flynn. "We have to control the battle. There are four PT squadrons, and there's four of us."

"We're splitting up?" said Jiya.

"It's our best option," said Flynn. "Warfield will be back in his command tent. We can influence the battle better than him if we're on the boats. Make them listen."

They each exchanged nervous glances. "We'll be okay," said Jack. "But we gotta trust each other."

Trusting the others wouldn't be a problem, Lucy thought.

 _Trusting me is a different story._

.

Emma stood on the bridge of the _Amagiri_ as it cut through the water. The sun was starting to set. She smiled vindictively. Captain Toyama stood next to her.

We will win a great victory today," he said.

Emma nodded.

Yes. She would.

.

A/N: Jeez! Long time for an update. Sorry guys. Life stuff. My biggest regret is not getting these chapters done before Pride because Stonewall is next! Anyway- it will happen. Thanks for your patience! Please review!


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